Seven Things
by iamhermionemalfoy
Summary: Draco Malfoy made no secret of his extreme dislike towards Hermione Granger. He even had a list of things he loathed about her, seven things to be exact. But what happens when one day the golden snitch decides to take sanctuary in her nest of bushy hair?
1. Her Hair

**Seven Things **

by astrogirl23

A/n: It's been too long since I have written a D/Hr fic, and I must say I missed it! So my good friend gave me a challenge to write a story about my favourite couple involving Miley Cyrus's song Seven Things. So here's my attempt, I hope you like it! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I'm only borrowing them for a short story.

* * *

Draco Malfoy never hid the extreme dislike he felt for Hermione Granger; in fact he was quite proud of flaunting it to the world of Hogwarts, his hatred very much obvious with every taunt and insult he hurled her way. The emotion ran deep, poisoning his veins until he could no longer distinguish anything else he might have felt for her other than the fuel of revulsion pulsing within him.

However, by some twisted hand of faith, the two of them were forced to work together—and as Head Boy and Head Girl, they had to set aside their mutual loathing for each other and try to work as a team. Draco had to endure living in close quarters with her, sharing a common room and patrolling the halls alongside her during the late hours of the night.

It had been tough, especially at the beginning, and terribly awkward as well. There were long stretches of silences every time one of them spoke—they were both striving so hard to be civil that they held back a lot of words that would possibly spark a fight, so most of the time they just opted to not say a thing. Draco had felt the familiar uneasiness in his stomach every night she joined him at their common room to study, as though she might jump up and attack him at the slightest provocation. The glances she cast his way were wary as well, and she was very careful not to meet his own turbulent gaze.

Then one day, the awkwardness was gone—the day of the dreaded quidditch match when the golden snitch decided to take sanctuary in her hair.

* * *

**-****Her hair.**

He concentrated very hard as his eyes darted back and forth, up and down, searching madly for the small glint of gold that would turn the luck of the Slytherin quidditch team for the finals.

He was only half aware of the other players around him, whizzing past as they defended their respective teams. Out of the corner of his peripheral vision he saw Zabini bat away the bludger towards the Ravenclaw chaser, who was hit squarely in the stomach. The Ravenclaw keeper retaliated by hitting an incoming quaffle with the butt of his broom and sending it back to one of the Slytherin chasers' face. Ravenclaw was already up by fifty points, but if Draco managed to catch the snitch, they would be competing against Gryffindor for the final match of the season.

If only the tiny golden winged ball bothered putting up an appearance, that is.

Finally, to his wild relief, he saw the snitch, hovering a few feet above the Gryffindor stands. Without pausing to think, he manoeuvred his broom towards that direction, relishing the feel of the stinging air on his face, not daring to blink nor take his eyes away from the minuscule luminous ball.

In another half second he had reached the top of the Gryffindor stands, his hands mere inches from the precious snitch. He leaned forward to clasp it, but the darned ball flew down and went straight to… Granger's hair.

He did not even think twice as he dove down after the snitch. The Gryffindor audience quickly scattered, hollering in outrage and surprise. The Head Girl stood there in frozen astonishment, still seeming clueless that the snitch had taken shelter in her wild tangle of curls.

The Ravenclaw seeker started to zoom towards the Gryffindor stands, making Draco panic a little. He leapt off his broom right then and hurled himself towards where Granger stood, still quite immobile and her jaw slack with shock.

The next thing Draco knew, he had crashed bodily into her, and down they went on the wooden floor with a rather loud crash. He felt the air temporarily knocked out of him as he landed ungracefully on top of her.

Breathing rather heavily, his hands shot out to grapple with Granger's stubborn locks, searching for the snitch. He ignored her pained groan, and the feeble way she tried to push him away from her. As his fingers weaved through her thick mahogany tresses, he could not help but notice that her hair felt totally different from how it looked. The strands actually felt soft and smooth against his fingers, and an intoxicating smell of strawberries wafted from it.

"Get off me, Malfoy," she rasped out, squirming uncomfortably beneath him. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing? This is—this is scandalous!"

Draco finally snapped his attention to her face, and he saw that she was blushing furiously at the indecent position of their bodies. He almost forgot that his lanky six foot form was draped carelessly over her petite body, and his hands were buried in her nice-smelling bushy hair.

"We're hardly doing anything scandalous," he told her with his trademark smirk. "It's not as if we're snogging and copping a feel of each other's privates in front of this huge audience, Granger," he could not resist adding, knowing it would piss her off all the more. Granger looked as though she wanted to spit on his face, so he moved his own a few millimeters away in case she did so.

"You are despicable," she hissed. "Get off me. Now."

He could not control the grin that touched his mouth as he gave her a mock scolding stare. "Hold your horses for just a second, Granger. I'm looking for the snitch," he drawled, but his hand had already enclosed around the cold circular metal. He wanted to savour two or more seconds of touching her unbelievable hair, because this was the first and last time he would be doing it.

"Just wake me up when you're done," Granger muttered dryly, trying to wiggle away from him once more. Somehow, the friction of their bodies made Draco's own body tighten with the oddest sensation. It took him completely by surprise, making him spring up like he was singed with a hot branding iron.

Without bothering to assist Granger, He stood up and held the snitch above his head for everyone to see. The crowd looked confused for a moment, then erupted into cheers as Ernie McMillan announced Slytherin the winner. With a huge triumphant smile on his face, he glanced down at her fuming form, still lying on the ground.

Draco rolled his eyes at her helplessness. He held out his hand, but she did not take it; she sat up, swatted his hand away, and held herself upright, nose up in the air. Before he could open his mouth to thank her, Potter and Weasley had flanked to her sides, asking simultaneously if she was alright, all the while shooting dirty looks at his direction.

A few hours later, as Draco staggered back to the Heads' quarters, still quite high from the celebration at the Slytherin common room, he thought about the way he reacted to Granger back at the quidditch match. He felt extremely disgusted with himself for suddenly noticing such paltry things about her. He loathed seeing something else beyond the periphery of his hatred for her, for he thought it made him vulnerable.

His good mood suddenly gone, he made his way inside the Heads' common room, where he immediately spotted her sitting by the fireplace. She was surrounded by a mountain of books as usual. She seemed preoccupied with the essay she was so zealously writing that she did not notice his presence. He did not particularly want to engage in a conversation with her, so he continued walking towards his private quarters, pausing in his stride when her irate comment reached his ears.

"It's the size of an egg, you know," she grumbled, her quill poised mid-air as she assessed his unusually rumpled form with undisguised repugnance.

"An egg?" Draco echoed, looking absolutely clueless, half-turning to face her. "What the hell are you talking about, Granger?"

She gave him a glare that could have melted an iceberg. "I hit my head a while ago when you jumped on me, and now I've got a bump the size of an egg at the back of it," gingerly she rubbed at the aforementioned area, giving a little wince that tugged at his conscience.

"Why not complain to Madam Pomfrey then?" he asked, simply because he knew he was not the sort who hovelled at her feet, asking for forgiveness and making sure she was alright. He should never be that sort.

Anger and a flash of hurt were etched in her eyes, but she had looked away from him before he could clarify what he saw. "I don't make a habit of making such a large fuss over a trifling injury, unlike you," she huffed out, turning back to her essay. Stray locks of curly hair had fallen to shield her face, and that was the silent sign that she was dismissing him.

"Then why mention it to me? Craving for my sympathy now, Granger?" he could not help but sneer.

She did not even bother looking up at him when she answered. "I don't want to start an argument with you, so I won't bother responding to that. My brain cells are too precious to waste on you, Malfoy,"

She made the right decision, he had to admit. If a dispute sparked between them and he spoke or acted out of control, he would be kicked out of Hogwarts in a blink of an eye. The mere mention of the word 'mudblood' would dissolve the contract his father had made with the Headmistress for him to be able to finish his final year in school.

"I'll see you at the ten o'clock rounds," he said after a moment of silence, but the Head Girl did not seem inclined to reply. He then trudged his way to his room to take a shower, tamping down the anxiousness that slithered in his stomach.

He should not care less whether Granger declared having a brain tumour or any injury, as trivial as she claimed it. Damn, he should not even be thinking about her. He had hardly spared any thought about her before, and he was not going to start now. However, the image of her sprawled beneath him, her face flushed, and the satiny feel of her hair failed to budge from his mind even after his bath and supper.

He went back to the Heads' common room five minutes before their designated rounds, after finishing his homework at the library. Dropping his books on the coffee table across the fireplace, he took in Granger's sleeping form by the armchair, her mouth slightly open. On her lap was a thick Arithmancy book with several complicated-looking equations. He was amused to see that she had written a different equation she seemed to have made herself on her curled palm.

"Granger, wake up," he said, touching her by the shoulder. "It's almost time for our evening rounds," he prodded her again for a good measure, and she began to stir, giving a loud moan when the back of her head touched the backrest of the armchair.

"Owww—" she moaned out, her eyes slitting open. Her eyes looked like caramelized sugar as they locked for a moment with Draco's grey orbs. Then she blinked, averting her eyes from him once more. She snapped the Arithmancy book close and rose to her feet. Draco saw her sway, and he caught her before she completely lost her balance.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, his tone coming out rude instead of concerned. She pushed his arms away from her, her face ashen.

Granger blinked rapidly, took a deep breath, then sat down again. "Head rush," she mumbled, looking embarrassed. Draco wasn't one to be fooled easily though. Kneeling down in front of her, he tugged her head towards him, his fingers sinking once more into her thick hair. She balked at first, sputtering incoherent words, but started to relax when she realized he was trying to feel for the lump at the back of her head. Tears of pain sprang into her eyes when his thumb connected with the tender bump, and she tried to move her head away again.

"You said it was the size of an egg!" Draco spat out, not sure why he was suddenly so angry. He removed his hands from her head and stood up, crossing his arms on his chest.

"It is," Granger replied, not meeting his eyes.

"A bloody dragon egg, if you ask me!" he said acerbically. "You need to go to the hospital wing, Granger,"

"I do not!" she shot off the chair once more, and fell back when a dizzying rush came over her. "I need…" she paused, closing her eyes as the world continued to spin around. "I just need to rest my eyes for a while," she finally said after a few minutes of terse silence.

"No. You're going to the Hospital Wing, Granger," Draco said firmly, hauling her from the armchair. At the exact moment Granger fell against his chest, she gave a funny sound in her throat, and the next thing he knew she was retching all over him.

He was too shocked to move or do anything for the first five seconds. "Shit!" he hollered, beginning to push Granger away from him but she looked as though she would collapse without his support. Groaning with disgust and scrunching his nose at the smell, he adjusted their position so he could grab his wand and clean the mess up.

"I'm…" Granger swallowed, tears spiking her long lashes. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy. I didn't mean… mean to throw up on you," she said weakly. She closed her eyes then, shielding herself from the livid look on Draco's face. "I just feel so dizzy…"

"Scourgify," he muttered, pointing his wand at the muddle on the floor. Shaking his head disbelievingly, he started to slip off Granger's soiled robes from her shoulders. Miraculously, she made no protest, and when he was done with the job, he proceeded to remove his own dirty robes. He felt inwardly thankful that his uniform underneath was spared from Granger's vomit.

Draco eyed the stubborn chit sitting on the chair as he contemplated what to do. Surely she was not fit to join him for the evening rounds, and she would refuse going to the hospital wing. He thought of just leaving her there, but how could he explain to the Headmistress when his fellow Head Girl dies on him in the morning?

Without bothering to ask for permission, he scooped her up in his arms, ignoring the surprised yelp she gave and the weak attempts she made to disengage herself from him. "Put me down, you—Malfoy!" her cheeks were red again, although this time Draco doubted it was from embarrassment. Granger was riled, all right. But he was adamant that she visit the hospital wing, whether it meant having to drag her there or not. "I'll walk," she offered, but Draco walked on as though he had not heard her.

It was a fortunate thing that the hospital wing was just a few turns away from their common room, so Draco was not puffing with exhaustion by the time they got there. Madam Pomfrey ordered him to carry Granger to one of the empty beds while she asked questions about her injury. Draco did not miss the heavy mistrust in the nurse's eyes when she saw him.

"I'll go ahead and inform Professor McGonagall that you won't be able to patrol tonight," he told her as he turned to leave. Granger looked as though he was going to argue, but then gave a small nod as Madam Pomfrey continued to fuss over her.

"I have already asked Mr. Zabini and Ms. Patil to take over for you," Minerva McGonagall told Draco after he explained why he and Granger were not able to show up for the evening patrol. "What you need to do now, Mr. Malfoy, is to make sure the Head Girl is safe and comfortable in the hospital wing," with a curt nod, she dismissed him, leaving him no choice but to plod back to the infirmary, his mood dark.

Granger was still awake when he returned, her face a stark contrast against the darkness of her hair. "I had a concussion," she announced as he took a seat at her right side. "Madam Pomfrey said it was good that you brought me here so… thanks, I guess,"

"So glad to be of service," he replied with a wry note in his voice. "McGonagall asked me to stay with you by the way, so we'll have to endure each other's company for the rest of the night,"

Granger did not look happy with that arrangement as he was. "You don't have to stay here, I'll just be sleeping anyway," she answered, leaning back against the mound of pillows. "So thanks again, and good night, Malfoy." She shut her eyes and turned her back on him.

But Draco did not leave; he knew better than to defy McGonagall's orders, when his controversial re-entry as a Hogwarts student was made possible by her. Instead he made himself comfortable on the chair as he brought out his unfinished essay. He might as well make his time there useful.

He was jotting down his fifth paragraph when Granger turned back to him, a look of incredulity in her eyes. "Aren't you planning to leave?" she asked not too politely.

"No." he snapped, bending over his essay once more. Granger was persistent, though. She sat up, grimacing a little, and leaned over to look at what he was writing. An inviting smell of strawberries hung in the air around them, and Draco sucked in his breath, moving his head away from her.

"You've made a mistake there," she said, her eyes glinting with amusement for the first time that evening.

Draco's brows scrunched together. "Where?" he asked, not really caring about it, instead concentrating on making the coiling in his stomach go away when he saw the brightness in her wise brown eyes.

Granger gave him an impish grin, and the coils in his stomach clenched tighter. She had never smiled at him before. Now that she did so, he wasn't sure it was good for his health. Her smile made his heart race and induced a vomiting sensation at the same time.

"I'm not telling, you better figure it out yourself," she said haughtily, a ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips.

"As if your meddling, know-it-all attitude can help it. You'll probably be writing the essay for me yourself if you catch more than one mistake," he snorted, rolling his quill idly between his thumb and forefinger.

Granger raised a brow at him. "That tactic won't work on me, Malfoy. I'm not telling you where the error is, you'll have to search for it yourself. And try rereading chapter thirty-four of The Standard Book of Spells while you're at it,"

"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" Draco asked sardonically. He should not be engaging in a friendly banter with her, even though his irrational side seemed to think otherwise.

His curiosity was piqued when two red flags rose up her pale cheeks. "I—I can't sleep with you hovering over me like that," she admitted with a shrug. "I can't stare at your face too long without remembering…" absentmindedly she clutched her neck, where he saw a thin white scar—a scar he recognized all too well. It was made by his late aunt Bellatrix when she was tortured back at Malfoy Manor about a year ago.

Somehow, seeing that scar made his stomach roil even harder, and he was washed with a wave of guilt and shame. Her tortured screams had echoed in his nightmares after that terrible night in his mansion, a horrendous experience he would never forget. "I'm sorry," the apology tumbled out of his mouth quite easily, to his surprise. "Should I leave?"

Granger swallowed, blinked two times, then slowly shook her head. "It wasn't really your fault," she said softly, staring past him, seeming absorbed in the old memories. "I did appreciate your attempt at trying to cover us up back then," she continued, referring to his lame effort of concealing their identities to his aunt and parents back at the manor.

Draco was too choked up with a sudden rush of emotions that he could not form a response. He did not want to talk about the past, which was so dredged up that he merely wanted to forget.

"Malfoy, are you alright?" Granger asked, worry creasing on her face. "I'm sorry I brought that up," she said, regarding him with a mix of concern and pity. As if he was the one who needed it.

"Yes," he finally answered, turning back to his essay. "I am," those were his last words before Granger lay back on the bed and fell asleep, for real this time. He had finished his homework at around midnight, and when he was done, there was nothing left to do except watch her sleep.

Which he found a bit fascinating because she had the strangest expressions while she slept—sometimes her mouth hung open, sometimes her brows were slashed together, and sometimes she snored.

It was around four thirty in the morning when she started screaming, lost in the horror of her nightmare. Draco had awakened from his chair and he rushed to her, trying to calm her thrashing form on the bed.

"Granger. Granger, wake up," he said urgently, shaking her. She continued giving out agonized shrieks, her face contorted in pain. He was starting to sweat, and his hands were shaking. Her screams reminded him of the ugly past, and that particular event must have been what she had been dreaming of. "Come on, wake up!" he half-shouted, giving her another shake. He became more alarmed when he saw the tear tracks on her face. With a low curse, he reached out to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. "Damn. Wake up, Granger!"

Granger's eyes flung open, traces of horror still visible in her tear-clouded irises. She stared up at his face as she fought to catch her breath. Draco was not sure who was trembling more; he went stiff when her arms encircled around his waist in an awkward embrace. She had buried her face on the region between his chest and stomach, her tears soaking his uniform.

"Are you alright?" Draco croaked out a minute later. His trembling had subsided, but she still hadn't stopped crying. "Do you want me to call Madam Pomfrey?" he asked in a gentle tone he never thought of using on her.

She shook her head and released him, to his utter relief. "I still keep on dreaming about it," she murmured, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. "I'm such a coward,"

Draco took a seat on her bed, unconsciously pushing back locks of her hair that had fallen over her face. "That's where you're wrong, Granger. I may not particularly like you, but I don't think you're a coward," he said gravely. "Annoying, yes. Prudish, most definitely. But cowardly? No, I don't think so," he made an attempt at a joke, but she still seemed shaken from the nightmare.

Or maybe not. "Well, you're an annoying git and a prude too, Malfoy," she shot back, looking irritated. Draco grinned, preferring her incensed sputtering than being a snivelling mess. An angry Granger he could easily deal with, but one that was broken and helpless, he had no inkling how to handle.

"Yeah, well at least I don't go around burying my nose in boring books and acting like a snotty know-it-all," he smirked.

"At least I don't go around checking my hair incessantly when I pass by anything with a reflection," she responded sweetly, and he frowned.

"I'm not that vain," he said with a scowl. "I just care about how I look, unlike some other people I know," he flitted an obvious glance at her unkempt hair.

"There are a lot more important things than the physical appearance," she huffed out. "Like proper manners and exceptional charm," she could not help but punctuate those two qualities she did not think he possessed.

Draco resisted the urge to stick out his tongue like an immature child at her. "I can display the proper manners and exceptional charm when I feel the need for it," he drawled silkily, edging closer just to get her worked up. He got the reaction he expected; she scooted as far as she could from him, a look of repulsion on her face.

"I don't think I want to witness that," she answered vehemently. "because you wouldn't be the Draco Malfoy I knew then,"

"Touché, Granger,"

Just then, Madam Pomfrey appeared, pale-faced and looking sleep-dishevelled in her nightgown. "What happened? I heard screaming in here!" she was looking at Draco as though he had just murdered bunnies on the spot.

"She had a nightmare," he explained, trying to ignore the suspicious stare the nurse gave him. He knew for a fact that no one at Hogwarts truly trusted him now, not since his betrayal to Dumbledore. Not even when his side was cleared up, he knew they thought nothing of him but a villain. The fact hurt more than he really cared to admit.

Madam Pomfrey checked on Granger just to be sure, and when she finished, she gave Draco one more weary look before reluctantly returning to her quarters.

"I guess we better go back to sleep," Granger said when the nurse left. The comfortable aura between them was gone, veiled by the old discomfiture once more. He could not sleep after that, so instead he pulled out a book and tried to read for the morning's lessons. She fell back asleep a few minutes later, and there were no more follow up nightmares, to his relief.

When the sun began to rise, he decided to get back to the Heads' quarters so he could prepare for the day ahead. He left a brief note to Granger, which he slipped on her bedside table before he thought of taking it back and tearing it to pieces.

About three hours later, as he sat there on the Slytherin table, eating his breakfast and enjoying a moment of solitude, Granger popped out of nowhere, slipping into the space beside him, a sunny smile on her face. People from the other Houses were starting to give them curious looks, and he could see her friends from Gryffindor shooting dirty glares in their direction.

"You are causing unwanted attention, Granger," he drawled out, stabbing at his hotcake with a fork.

"And you are being terribly prissy," she countered, a challenging look in her eyes. "I read your note," she smiled again, her even row of white teeth glinting under the sunlight. Draco dropped his fork and drained the last of his pumpkin juice. He did not want to talk about the embarrassing note he wrote when he was still half-asleep and suffering aftershocks of panic. Cursing under his breath, he stood up and started to leave, but Granger followed suit.

"How's the head?" he asked, finding the perfect excuse to switch topics. From the corner of his eye he could see Hannah Abbott straining to listen to their conversation.

"The lump's gone, Madam Pomfrey gave me a tonic to lessen the swelling," she responded crisply, trying to keep up with his quick pace as he walked out of the Great Hall. "About the note—" she halted on her tracks when he spun around to face her. His hands had somehow woven themselves in her hair again, his fingers searching for the bump she had the night before.

"It is gone," he said out loud, his hands idly relishing the smooth texture of her hair, finally seeming to notice that he stood too close to her for his own comfort. She was staring up at him with probing brown eyes, as though she was dissecting the emotions she saw on his face. Abruptly he let go of her, and he steered to the direction of the Charms classroom.

"Malfoy, about the note—" she called out after him, her footfalls light but rushed as she kept up with his brisk walking.

"I don't want to talk about the damned note, alright?" he snarled while he ambled on. "Just don't go showing it off to Potter and Weasley," he muttered as an afterthought, a hint of pinkness creeping up the crests of his cheeks.

"I won't, I promise," she said, finally managing to grab a fistful of his robes. Draco stopped walking, but he did not face her. She seemed determined to have her say though. She tugged at his robes, forcing him to look down at her. When he did, he saw warmth and happiness swimming in her eyes, and a genuine smile touching her lips.

"I just wanted to tell you that I accept," she told him, giving his arm a squeeze before whirling around to go to her first class. She was halfway across the room when she whipped her head back and added in a voice tinged with amusement, "And you're wrong. There is a chance," with one last smile she turned away and marched onwards. Draco gazed after her, a first, equally genuine smile finally curling on his mouth.

Maybe. Just maybe.

* * *

Hermione was still grinning as she sauntered into the Arithmancy classroom, her fingers closing around the folded note inside her robe pocket. Malfoy's neat, slanted writing still lingered in her mind, the words he wrote echoing like a pleasant melody.

_Granger,_

_ I'm sorry I knocked you down and gave you a lump the size of a dragon egg at the back of your head. But I reckon you already had your revenge by casting up what you ate last supper all over me. Anyway, I guess my long due apology is also in order, for the way I acted those past years, for the literal hell my family and I had put you through. I know it's a bit too late to ask, but I was wondering if we really could make __real__ peace with each other. And I'm not referring to that crap we call civility when we work together. I'd like a clean slate, to be perfectly honest. Decent conversations, and maybe an occasional compliment or two, when we feel up to it. I promise not to act as prejudiced as I did before, only if you quit bossing me around with your know-it-all attitude. I'm not asking you to be chums with me or anything, because there is definitely no chance of that happening, but something along the lines of that. I don't want to fight anymore, Granger. I'm so bloody tired of it. Tell me what you think. But if it's not a positive feedback, please spare the bother and just leave me the hell alone._

_-Malfoy_

_PS: I reckon I'll start with the compliment here, since I'd probably vomit myself if I told you this upfront. I think you have soft and nice-smelling hair, but you have to admit, it is bushy. I actually enjoyed running my fingers through it yesterday._

* * *

…. So what do you guys think? Should I continue? I still have six things about Hermione Granger that Draco would like to discuss. :)


	2. Her Eyes

**Seven Things**

by astrogirl23

A/n: Thanks for the great reviews guys, it motivated me to write down a new chapter quickly. I'll try my very best to keep Draco and Hermione in character here, just to make it more realistic. Don't hesitate to tell me if you find anything weird in my story, I won't take it against you. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I'm just borrowing them for some amusement.

* * *

Draco Malfoy discovered the second thing he hated about Hermione Granger during a quidditch match once more.

**Her eyes.**

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not a pleasant companion when he's in a foul mood.

That evening, as he lounged lazily in front of the fireplace of the Heads' common room, a dark scowl decorated his austere features. His white-blonde hair was in an unusual disarray, as if he had been absent-mindedly tugging on the silky strands for hours.

He was in a bad mood, indeed.

He still felt angry with himself for being so careless at the quidditch match earlier that afternoon. If he hadn't been too busy ogling some bushy-haired Head Girl, who had been distracting him the whole game when she took over as commentator because Ernie McMillan conveniently had a head cold, he would have seen the snitch flying about in front of his nose.

Granger made a poor quidditch commentator, in his opinion. She gave the most outrageous comments, and she diverted his attention several times when she gave sly encouraging words to her fellow Head Boy. He found himself glancing more than often at the commentator's stands instead of searching for the tiny golden ball. It irked him that he could not last for more than twenty seconds without gazing back at her limpid brown eyes, his concentration on the game utterly lost.

He'd have preferred Luna Lovegood sitting there and giving odd comments about the quidditch match any day. Granger sidetracked him too much with the fluttering of her pretty doe eyes and the sweet smiles she sent to his direction. He was beginning to think it was her strategy to make her House team win.

Needless to say, Gryffindor won by a mere thirty points (the score had been Slytherin=180 Gryffindor=30 before Potter caught the snitch) above Slytherin. Draco could not look into the eyes of his furious team mates after that; he had worked so hard to get back in good graces with his fellow House mates, but that failed quidditch match only added up to the things they could not forgive about him. No amount of money or broomsticks could bring back the old authority he had over them, not after his treachery, not even when he had been controversially elected as Head Boy.

With a grim look on his face, he watched the embers die away, and he poked at the coals with a muttered spell to renew the dying fire. His stomach growled with hunger, for he hadn't any supper yet. He did not want to go down the Great Hall and see the Gryffindor table celebrating, while the Slytherin folks would be casting him demeaning stares that would surely make him lose his appetite.

He started dozing off in a minute or two, but was roused back to consciousness when the door of the common room swung open. He could hear Granger's light footsteps edging nearer, but he did not open his eyes. He was not in the mood to see her face, or talk to her.

She did not seem to have an idea of that though.

"Malfoy?" she called out, and he felt her settle down behind him. A mouth watering smell of roast beef and casserole reached his nostrils, and he rolled over to face her.

"I brought food," she told him. "I thought you'd be hungry, you haven't come down for supper a while ago," she motioned to the plate filled with ample food, which she had placed on the coffee table.

Draco stretched and sat up, giving her a suspicious glance. "Since when did you care, Granger?" he asked insolently. He was still brimming with anger and bitterness about losing the match; he would lash out at the first person to speak to him, and it was Granger.

"Too long for you to find out," she answered crisply, the concern falling away from her eyes, replaced by irritation. With a scowl that matched his, she thrust a silver spoon and fork at him. "Eat. It might improve your sour disposition," she said.

"I'm not hungry," he muttered, but his stomach grumbled in protest. He grudgingly took the utensils from her outstretched hand, and when their fingers brushed against each other, he heard her sudden intake of breath. She hastily pulled away as though burned by his touch.

"Eat." She ordered, the familiar bossy gleam visible in her brown eyes.

Draco gave her an icy glare. "I might, if you'd leave me the hell alone!" he then proceeded to angrily stab at a piece of beef with his fork. He gave a pointed look at Granger, willing her to go away, but he might as well been asking a mountain to move for his convenience.

Granger did not budge from her place until he had shoved a mouthful of food in his mouth. Her caramel-coloured eyes did not leave his face as he chewed on the tender meat of the beef, making him a bit self-conscious.

"What are you staring at? Is it your first time to see a man eat?" he sneered, but she only raised a brow at him in reply. Her mouth pursed in disapproval when set down his fork and gave her another glower.

"No. It's my first time to see a ferret eat," she responded in a challenging voice.

Draco felt his ears flush. "You think you're funny, Granger?" he growled.

"Oh yes. I am such a clown," she said sarcastically.

"And I'm a—" Draco's words were cut off when she shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes at his open mouth, a victorious smile on her face.

"You are not my mother, Granger," he spat out after swallowing the potato. Granger wielded the spoon like a weapon, and he reached over to take it back.

"Then stop acting like a child so I'll quit my mothering," she snapped.

"Can you blame me losing my appetite when you hover like a hawk while I eat?"

"Fine. I won't look at you while you eat, if that's what's bothering you," Granger mumbled, looking away. "But I'm not leaving,"

Draco did not respond, but finished his meal instead. Annoying, meddling chit. He watched as she grabbed a book from a nearby shelf, a muggle novel he wouldn't dare read.

"I'm surprised you returned here early," he drawled out after wiping his lips with his handkerchief. "Shouldn't you be with your Gryffindor friends, celebrating?"

She glanced up from the book, a frown on her face. "I have more important matters to attend to than celebrating," she said.

"Like bringing me dinner?" he countered, his chest tightening as the realization dawned on him; she had chosen to stay with him and had even thoughtfully brought him food rather than party with her House mates.

But the question was, why?

Granger gave him a beady look that reminded him of McGonagall. "Oh, don't be such a git, please. Does it really shock you that I'm concerned about your welfare?"

"Of course it shocks me!" Draco replied sardonically. "Because in case you haven't noticed, nobody else does,"

"Well I do," Granger said fiercely, and his stomach gave a funny jolt. "I thought you wanted a chance of having real peace with me," she continued, gazing at him with probing mahogany eyes once more.

He did, but he wasn't in the mood for it tonight. He wanted to wallow in self-pity, and gobble down some Chocolate Frogs to soothe his wounded pride.

"You should go back to the Gryffindor common room," he suddenly said. "Your boyfriend Weasel won't be too happy to find out that you're here with me instead,"

Granger gave him an owlish stare. "Ron and I aren't together," she told him bluntly. "We broke up a month after the final battle. Neither one of us are prepared to be in a serious relationship right now,"

Draco inwardly cursed when he felt his heart thump happily in his chest. He shouldn't care about it, but the news shockingly made him want to smile. He bit on his lip to keep from doing that though. And told himself again and again that he was only happy for her finally coming to her senses, when she could surely do better than Weasley.

"I see," he said in an off-hand manner, tamping down the little devil victory-dancing in his mind. "Not that I care anyway," he added for a good measure, trying to look nonchalant.

"What about you? Aren't you seeing Daphne Greengrass' little sister?" Granger asked in the same tone he used earlier. Draco felt the traitorous heat creep his cheeks, and he turned away before she could see his blush.

"She's been kind enough to sit with me during several classes, but nothing further than that," he answered, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. Granger had a keen eye, he had to admit. "I did not go back to Hogwarts to look for such a trifling matter as a relationship, I just want to finish my final year so I can work at the Ministry,"

Granger nodded in agreement. "Me too, there's a lot to prepare for, the N.E.W.T. exams are barely a month away, and I still have a lot of studying to do,"

Draco eyed her with disbelief. "If you'd study any harder, you'd be replacing Shacklebolt as Minister," he commented dryly. "I bet you've read all the books in the library already,"

She flushed a little. "Perhaps. There are still plenty of books in the Restricted Section I haven't read though," she admitted.

Draco eyed her with a mix of fascination and confusion. Oddly, he found it endearing, her impossible love of books and knowledge. It was one of the things he had in common with her, but he would rather rot than admit that fact aloud. If their circumstances had been different, he would have regarded her in a different light. He hated to admit it, but Granger was an intriguing creature, surprising him at every turn every time he discovered a new thing about her.

But recalling how she mucked up Slytherin's chance of winning the quidditch cup, he knew she would be nothing but additional trouble in his already topsy-turvy life. Still, she had the strange power of calming him down, with just one glimpse in the pools of her caramel-coloured eyes. He could almost forgive her for ruining his chance to prove himself to his team mates. Almost.

He was momentarily distracted when she pulled out a Honeydukes bag from her robe pocket. "I almost forgot about these—I thought you might want some," Draco took the bag from her outstretched hand, a suspicious look on his face. His throat felt tight when he peeked inside—Granger had bought him the Chocolate Frogs he had been craving for to fix his dark mood. She was able to anticipate his needs so well it freaked him out.

In a good way, he supposed. "What is this for, exactly?" he managed to ask, his voice coming out calm despite the waves of emotion he felt.

"Well I reckoned you wouldn't be in a fine mood after the quidditch match earlier, and based from my observations, you tend to consume Chocolate Frogs every time you are pissed off, so there," Granger responded, looking a little abashed. "You're not angry, are you? "

"Now, why would I be angry?" he asked idly, feeling light-headed, his heart racing. She had more than a keen eye; she was very observant indeed. He wondered what else she noticed about him and his habits. "I'm touched, Granger. You know my favourite candy. Pray tell, what else have those inquisitive eyes of yours discovered about me all these times we shared a common room?"

Granger's cheeks burned magenta, and she looked uncomfortable with the topic. "Well," she began, taking a deep breath. She did not speak for a minute, and Draco thought she wouldn't continue. But she did, and he was quite shocked. "Aside from your love for Chocolate Frogs, you seem to take pleasure in sucking on Peppermint Toads too. What is it with you and the amphibian-shaped food anyway? You also write with your left hand. You like checking on your hair more than a normal male should. You shower twice a day, and you seem to enjoy the rain. So far, that's all I've noticed,"

Draco was too stunned to reply at first. When he found his voice, he could only say, "Why do you always pick on my hair?"

Granger burst out laughing at that. Her eyes sparkled with amusement and warmth, and for a moment Draco was lost in their limpid depths. Since when had she grown so comely anyway?

"Admit it, Malfoy. You can't stand more than a day without checking if any precious hair is out of place in that head of yours," she chuckled. "Not that I'd take it against you, but you do have nice hair. I just don't think you should monitor its condition every five minutes,"

"Now you're exaggerating," Draco drawled, a smirk touching his lips. "And besides, you aren't the only one who's quite an observer. I am too, and I must say there are a lot of things I noticed about you as well,"

Granger raised a brow at him, daring him to continue.

"You, for one thing, like to eat Liquorice Wands while studying. You seem to have an addiction to coffee as well. You tend to chew on your bottom lip when you're thinking. Your eyes light up at the mention of books, or anything related to it. You're completely clueless in commentating a quidditch game, and you snore in your sleep. And you don't seem to give much care for your appearance. You don't pile make-up on your face like the other girls do; you don't even bother taming down that bushy mane of yours, but I must admit, you still end up looking presentable, and neat. There. Did I miss anything?"

"I don't snore!" she said indignantly, looking mortified. "And I can't help it if my hair's thick, you surely didn't mind that one bit when you ran your fingers through it two months ago during that dreaded quidditch match!"

Draco's smirk grew wider. "Why are you being so defensive? I was merely stating facts; and in case you haven't noticed, I just complimented you, you ungrateful little brat,"

"I'm afraid I didn't catch it," she said frostily. "Care to repeat what you just said?"

"No," he answered in a flat tone. "It's hardly my fault you have poor comprehension skills, for someone who's at the top of the class."

Granger gave an angry huff, then grabbed a piece of Chocolate Frog from the bag. Popping it into her mouth, she gave him a highly pissed look. "God, you really are an annoying git, Malfoy. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother,"

"Precisely my thoughts too," he replied dryly. "But I'm not complaining, you actually keep me entertained,"

She rolled her eyes at him. "So glad to be of service," she muttered.

"You're actually quite good at sidetracking me, you know. I was so pissed off with you a while ago for distracting me at the quidditch match, but now I could barely remember being mad,"

Her brows lifted up, creasing her smooth forehead. "I was distracting you?" she echoed, perplexed.

"You were batting your doe eyes at me too frequently that I sort of lost concentration," he grumbled, his voice barely audible. But Granger seemed to hear what he just said, and she blushed furiously.

"I was not batting my eyes at you!" she said hotly. "Why would I do that? It's not as if I fancy you or something! Get real, Malfoy,"

Draco's heart clenched a bit at her words. That wasn't how he intended her to interpret his comment, but then again, this wasn't the first time she misunderstood him.

Not bothering to expound his side, he shot off the floor, taking the bag of sweets with him. Sometimes she just made him so irrational. With a muttered curse, he started to head off to his private quarters, leaving her alone in the common room.

Stupid Granger. Too thick-headed to take a compliment, a complete failure at dissecting the hidden meanings behind his words. He should be grateful, for if she found out the slow evolvement of his feelings for her, she would surely freak out.

Perhaps it was better that way. His sudden attachment to her wasn't healthy for him. Growling with suppressed frustration, he plopped down on his four-poster bed and ate the rest of the Chocolate Frogs, trying to shove off the bushy-haired woman who began turning him inside out from his mind.

* * *

Draco had no choice but to go down to breakfast the next day and face the wrath of his fellow Slytherins. As expected, there were a lot of heated looks flung at his direction, and whispered insults they dared not say loudly. He tried to ignore it all, instead concentrating on the glint of the Head Boy badge on his chest. He should be respected, damn it.

Granger was staring snootily at him from the Gryffindor table, apparently still miffed with their argument last night.

Averting his gaze from her, he sat on an empty space at the Slytherin table and quietly ate his eggs and bacon. He looked up from his plate when Blaise Zabini dropped on the space across him, his chiselled features drawn in a serious look.

"You totally blew it yesterday mate, you have to admit," Blaise said, shaking his head in disappointment. "We would have gotten the quidditch cup if you just quit your ogling at the mudblood for a minute there,"

Draco set down his fork, fury settling in his composure. "Do not call her that, or I'll be forced to dock off more points from our beloved House," he responded, ice dripping from his tone. Blaise looked equally furious with him.

"Since when have you been a defender of the muggle-born lot?" he asked, revulsion on his face. "You're not the Draco Malfoy I grew up with anymore," he spat out.

"You know very well of the contract my father signed with McGonagall, about the agreement that we completely abolish our propaganda against muggle-borns, Blaise. I can't help it. And yes, I have changed. I'm no longer the self-serving brat I was before, and if you don't like it, go to hell,"

To his astonishment, Blaise burst into a humourless laugh. "And I bet you also can't help falling in love with the little mudblood Granger," he said, neatly dodging the punch Draco almost threw at his face.

The other people eating breakfast at the Slytherin table were now looking at them with rapt attention, apprehension in their faces as they waited for a full brawl to start; from the corner of his eye he could see Granger standing up from her seat, her head craned towards his direction.

"I don't want to cause you trouble, mate," Blaise said in a low voice. "I'm just concerned about you. You've been acting off lately, and we want the old Draco back,"

Slowly Draco lowered his fist, his anger abated. He couldn't blame Blaise for his reaction, when even he himself was repulsed by his change of heart. But he could not bring the old Draco back even if he wanted to; it would only cause further trouble, and he would be expelled from school.

"I'm sorry, Blaise," he said, sounding defeated. "I can't do anything about it. But trust me on this—I have no special feelings for Granger,"

Blaise only stared at him sceptically, shook his head, and left the table.

Draco's mind was clouded with confusion as he made his way towards the dungeons, where he would be having his first class. Damn Blaise, where did he get that preposterous idea that he was in love with Granger? He simply wanted to be civil with her, perhaps even become her friend, but nothing more. Nothing.

Hell, he might find her a bit pretty, and admire her cinnamon-coloured eyes, but that hardly qualified him of being besotted with her! Perhaps he should try and flirt with Astoria, just to keep his feelings at bay. She certainly was a gem compared to Granger, but he grudgingly admitted that he'd prefer Granger's company any time.

"Hey, Draco," he passed by Astoria at the hall leading down the dungeons, who was just exiting the Slytherin common room. "Good morning. I'm sorry about the match yesterday, but I don't blame you, just so you know," she said shyly, tucking back a lock of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear.

Draco gave her a jaunty grin. "Thanks, I'm glad to hear it. Are you heading to the Great Hall for breakfast?"

Astoria nodded, her dark blue eyes sparkling. For a moment Granger's own shiny warm brown eyes flitted in his mind, and he inwardly thought he favoured gazing at it more than Astoria's long-lashed, blue orbs. Shit. This was not good news.

"Yes, I am. And I assume you're heading to the Potions lab for your N.E.W.T. class?" she gave him an enchanting smile, and Draco decided she was too beautiful. He preferred someone who was a bit more ordinary, yet extraordinary at the same time. He knew that made no sense, yet an image of a certain bushy-haired girl with nice eyes rose into the periphery of his brain, and it wouldn't go away.

"Yeah," was all he could think of saying. He was too astounded with his turn of thoughts that he couldn't think of any coherent words. Had Granger slipped a drop of cheap love potion in his food last night? He felt the blood rush from his face at the thought.

Astoria was peering at him with worry in her eyes. "Are you alright, Draco? You look pale," she seemed hesitant at first, but she reached over to touch his arm.

Draco was too preoccupied with his thoughts to answer. He was jolted out of his reverie though, when Granger's voice filled his ears.

"No dawdling in the hall," she snapped, glaring at Astoria, who still had her soft white hand on his arm. She turned her eyes at him then, and he saw blazing anger in the caramel-hued irises. "And Malfoy, we're going to be late for class," with that she spun around and marched away, head held high.

Astoria dropped her hand, looking interestedly at Granger's retreating form. "I didn't know the Head Girl had a jealous streak in her," she commented, and Draco's eyes swung to her smiling face.

"Why would she be jealous?" he asked, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Oh, you could be so dense sometimes, Draco. Go on, you're going to be late for your class," Astoria cast him one last amused look, and walked on towards the direction of the Great Hall.

* * *

A/n: There. This came earlier than I had anticipated, but I don't think I can say the same for the next chapter. I'll be on a three-day training starting tomorrow, so most probably I'll start writing again on the weekend. Til then, my loves! Don't forget to review. ;)


	3. Her Old Levis

**Se****ven Things**

by astrogirl23

A/n: Yep, I'm a little late, but hey, I have a good reason. I was so tired from the three-day training I had, and I needed to unwind outside the house for a while. Anyway, I have Chapter 3 up, hope you'll enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

* * *

Most of the girls Draco Malfoy was acquainted with took great pride in actually fixing themselves up. They comb their hair until it shone in flattering wisps against their faces, put on a little make-up, and wear clothes that compliment their figure.

Unfortunately, the Head Girl wasn't one of them.

Hermione Granger hardly gave a fig about her appearance, not even bothering to tame down the bushy tresses that gave Draco the urge to run a garden rake through. She was bare-faced most of the time, although he couldn't count it against her because he had to admit, she had great skin.

And don't even let him get started on her clothes. She hardly wore anything than worn-out jeans and frumpy jumpers that did not at all flatter her figure. If he hadn't seen her during their fourth year wearing that amazing periwinkle-coloured robes, he would never believe she actually hid a nicely shaped body underneath the ridiculous garments she wore.

He particularly hated the ratty jeans she so loved to wear during the weekends, insisting it was soft and comfortable. And they were a perfectly decent pair of "Levis", as she had called it.

Draco loathed it, another fact he added in the things he hated about her.

**Her old Levis.**

* * *

"Honestly, Granger, I know for a fact that you aren't poor, but honestly, what else could be the reason why you can't replace those nasty pants?"

Granger looked down at Draco's reclining form on the sofa, gave him a good scowl, then went back to arranging the books on the shelf they were provided in the common room they shared.

"Don't you have something else to pick on?" she grumbled before bending down to put back the books she finished dusting to their respective shelves. Draco watched as her legs bunched when she knelt down, inwardly cursing for appreciating the teasing curve of her hips emphasized by the dreadful jeans she wore when she stood back up.

The jeans may be too ratty-looking for Draco's taste, but he grudgingly confessed that it fit perfectly on her waist, hips and legs. And he hated noticing such things about her. He didn't want to dwell too much on Hermione Granger, who was completely off-limits.

It would be just like an ant trying to conquer an elephant.

"They're an eyesore," he commented, shifting to a sitting position as he continued to just watch her, not even bothering to help. He liked watching her tidy the room they shared into a sparkling order, and was amused that she never once asked him to assist her. She was independent and proud like that, every inch the Gryffindor the sorting hat claimed her to be.

"Then don't look," she snapped, clapping the dust from her hands as she put away the last of the books. She disappeared for a moment to wash her hands, and when she came back, she had an armful of books and parchments with her. "Are you done with your Ancient Runes essay?" she asked Draco as she settled down on the space across him.

"Haven't even started on it yet," he answered lazily, and she frowned.

"Well, why haven't you? It's due on Tuesday!" she looked disbelievingly at him, as though he had just declared a fetish for skinning little puppies alive.

"It's Saturday, Granger. I hardly think it's a crime to relax today and skip doing homework until tomorrow," he gave her an insolent grey-eyed stare, and she huffed in annoyance.

"There's no time to relax, Malfoy! The N.E.W.T. exams are coming soon, and we still have a load of schoolwork to do! We need to study, and most certainly—" she paused in her tirade and gave him a suspicious look. "You're just pulling my leg, are you? You're just as hell bent on getting high grades as I am. You're done with it, are you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. The darned chit was right. "Why does it matter so much to you, Granger? You think I'm competing with you?"

Granger looked affronted at his accusation. "Aren't you?" she asked back, looking hostile.

"No," Draco responded after a moment of silence. "I doubt I could ever compete with that big brain of yours, Granger. You're too bloody smart."

He felt a bit triumphant when she coloured at his praise. "I—I'm not—that is—" she stammered, put-off by his surprising compliment. "Oh, bother. Thanks Malfoy. And I was just concerned about you, that's why I asked if you're finished,"

Draco leaned towards her direction, propped his elbows on his thighs and rested his chin on his palms, a curious look on his face. "You seemed to be so terribly concerned about me these past months, Granger. Care to explain why?" he asked bluntly, and if her cheeks could go any redder, she'd self-combust on the spot.

"You've become rather like… a friend to me, I suppose," Granger murmured, unable to look him in the eye.

Draco didn't want to ponder further why his stomach sank in disappointment at her reply.

"Oh. So I've become like Weasley and Potter to your eyes, then? Not too flattering," he said sardonically.

"Not like them, they're my best friends! You're more like…" she blushed again, and his curiosity heightened.

"Like…?" he pressed.

She sighed, leaned back on her chair, and pushed an errant lock of mahogany-coloured hair away. "I can't explain it. You're not exactly a friend I can spill all my secrets to, but I rather enjoy your company even though you can be so unbearable sometimes,"

Somehow, her elaboration pleased him; at least she did not see him in the same strict platonic light she perceived Potter and Weasley.

"You're not exactly the perfect friend, too, Granger," he told her. "You bug the hell out of me at times also, but I occasionally find you entertaining as well,"

Granger gave a laugh at his response. "We do seem to be mirroring each other's viewpoint lately," she said, gazing thoughtfully at him. "and becoming more and more tolerant of each other's flaws,"

"I have to agree with that," Draco responded. "One flaw I wouldn't mind you abolishing though, is that appalling jeans you are wearing,"

"Will you quit picking on my jeans?" she said hotly. "I dress for comfort, if you must know. I'm not like those other girls who like to suffer in suffocating clothes just to look good,"

Draco gave her a full-fledged smirk. "What I think, Granger, is that you're running away from being a woman," he teased, and she fumed with irritation. "Stop hiding in that ugly shell you call clothes. You could do good with showing a bit of femininity,"

"And pray tell, what do you want me to do? Wear skirts that would make my legs freeze to death? Wear tight jumpers that show off my chest and impede my circulation? Walk in heels that could make me trip and break my neck?" Granger shot out, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Draco was amused with her rant, knowing full well she had a point, but he was determined to make her see fashion in a different light.

"Come on, you make dressing like a normal female sound so horrible," he said dryly. "which makes my theory correct. You are indeed scared of embracing your femininity, Granger,"

If looks could kill, he would have been dead four times over. "No, I am just being practical instead of trying so hard to catch the male population's attention with senseless tactics," Granger replied flatly, grabbing her Potions book from the coffee table and flipping it open to the chapter Slughorn asked them to read. Clearly she wanted to end the conversation, but Draco was adamant.

"Honestly, Granger, I'd burn those jeans of yours when I get the chance," he announced, but she pretended not to hear him. She was humming the Sorting Hat's song under her breath as she concentrated on the book, totally ignoring Draco.

"Don't you own any piece of garment that actually looks feminine?" he asked five minutes later, and she gave him a warning glare.

"Malfoy, if you mention the term 'feminine' on more time, I will hex you."

Draco gave her a grin. "Perhaps I'll buy you a skirt for Christmas," he told her, his eyes shining in glee.

"Which you will never see me wearing," she retorted with a heavy scowl. "I'd prefer a book, which I can actually use,"

Draco continued to smile, trying to imagine Granger in a girly outfit. She'd look smashing, he was sure. If he could only find a way to destroy that ungodly pair of jeans she loved wearing, he'd be successful in his plan.

* * *

"Draco Malfoy! You come down here this instant!"

Draco rolled over on his bed and sat up when he heard Granger's shout from downstairs. So she had seen his gift. With a wry smirk, he put on his shoes and strolled down the narrow stairway leading down their common room.

Granger's face was contorted in anger when he saw her. "What is the meaning of this?" she shrieked out, flinging an article of clothing at him. He caught it swiftly, and gave her a confused look.

"You don't like it?" he asked in a perplexed tone. "I had a devil of a time choosing this, and you don't appreciate it?"

Granger's cinnamon-coloured eyes burned with a mix of anger and humiliation. "Why can't you just accept me as I am, Malfoy? Am I that repugnant that you'd want to change even the way I dress?"

"Whoa, Granger, hold it right there," Draco started, taking a step toward her. "I certainly meant no insult when I bought you these. If you don't want to wear them, fine. But I just want you to understand that I only bought these clothes because I thought you'd look good in them, not because I want you to change or anything,"

Granger thankfully did not flinch away from his touch when he reached over to touch her shoulder. She did not say anything either when he handed the piece of clothing back to her, but her eyes looked suspiciously misty.

"Sorry I offended you, Granger. I wouldn't insult your jeans for the rest of the term, if that's what you prefer," he said quickly, and she smiled a little.

"How'd you even know these would fit me?" she asked a minute later, her voice coming out calmer, her breathing returning to normal.

Draco pretended to think for a second. "I just guessed, which was pretty difficult," he responded. "You always wear loose clothes, so I had to do a little imagining when I chose them,"

Granger flushed at his words. "I think they're too small for me," she muttered. "I'm usually a bit big 'round the middle," she added with an embarrassed laugh. "But thanks, Malfoy. I appreciate the effort you made in buying me a Christmas present,"

Draco released his grip on her shoulder, his turn to look embarrassed. "I'm sure you won't have any problem adjusting the size with a simple charm. It would make me happy if you actually wore it, Granger. And I hope you'll also like the book I picked out for you,"

Her face brightened up with excitement. "You bought me a book? Where? I haven't seen it! Was it wrapped with the clothes? Oh, I'm so—" she gave a happy squeal when he handed her a wrapped parcel, which contained the book he bought her. "Thanks! Happy Christmas, Malfoy!" the next he knew she had closed the distance between them and was hugging him tightly.

Draco went stiff at the contact of their bodies, and his cheeks went pink. "It's just a book," he grumbled, feeling giddy and light-headed as he inhaled the familiar intoxicating smell of her hair, marvelling at the feel of her arms around his waist.

"Well, I love books!" she said happily, tightening her hold on him, and he found himself smiling as he saw the warmth and real pleasure in her eyes. She gave him another sweet smile before letting go, and averted her eyes to the garment she held in her hand.

"You're welcome," Draco told her, his voice husky. "I thought I'd give you your presents now, since I'm sure you'd be coming home for the holidays,"

Granger's eyes snapped back to him, and she gave a nod. "Aren't you coming home for the holidays too?" she asked carefully.

"No," he answered, his throat closing. He didn't want to talk about home, about the trouble his family was currently going through.

Granger set down the garment and the parcel on a nearby chair, and clasped his hands. He stared down at their intertwined fingers, too surprised at the action to do or say anything. All he could focus on was the warmth and comfort her hands emitted.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" she asked softly, staring into his troubled face. Draco's grip tightened unconsciously on her fingers, but she did not complain. "I can stay, if you like,"

He found himself astounded with her once more. As he looked into her eyes, he was sure she would stay with him as promised with just a simple assent from him; that fact made his heart beat fast and his knees go weak. His stomach coiled with the ever-familiar sensation he felt every time she was near him, and to his horror, he realized he was falling in love.

Damn and hell. He was going to roast somewhere for this.

"No," he finally managed to croak out, pulling away from her touch. "Go home to your bloody muggle world where you belong, Granger," with that he turned around and walked back to his room, his heart heavy with the comprehension that she managed to own it without his consent.

* * *

Draco woke up the next day to find Granger gone; she left a note on the coffee table, along with a wrapped green parcel decorated with holly and mistletoes. His chest curling with nervousness, he gave a deep breath and opened the note.

_Draco,_

_I don't know what happened last night when you suddenly bolted on me, but I apologize if I did something wrong. I just want to let you know that I liked your gifts, even the clothes you had painstakingly bought me. I was just too humiliated to admit that last night. I'd also like to know how you found out that Victor Hugo is my favourite muggle author and even managed to get me a rare edition, but I guess I'll just have to wait until Christmas break is over to bully you for details. I'll miss you while I'm in the muggle world, you annoying prat. Advanced Merry Christmas! _

_PS: Don't hesitate to owl me a letter in case you feel lonely there._

_PPS: Oops. I just called you Draco. Is that alright?_

_-Hermione_

Draco sat down on the couch, feeling weak-kneed as he stared at Granger—no, Hermione's curly, neat scrawl. He felt a mixture of contentment and an unexplainable yearning as he thought of her—a wave of loneliness hit him then, as he realized that he would be living alone in their common room for the next two weeks. He missed her already, and she wasn't even halfway away from Hogwarts yet.

He then reached for the package Hermione left him, and he unwrapped it with trembling hands. His breath caught in his throat when he saw a hand-knitted scarf with the Slytherin logo stitched on one end. He found another piece of paper, and read the second note Hermione wrote.

_Malfoy,_

_I know you already have all the things money could buy, so I had a pretty hard time thinking of a present to give you. I figured this would have to do, since I don't think you've ever received something made from the heart before from me. So I made this scarf—no magic used!—to keep you warm when you stroll outside the school grounds. Also enclosed is a bag of Chocolate Frogs and Peppermint Toads. I hope you like it. Happy Christmas!_

_-Hermione_

He was still shaking with some unfathomable emotion as he put the scarf on, relishing the warmth it gave him, his fingers running absentmindedly over the wool Hermione had worked on knitting. He had no idea of how he would deal with his feelings for her now that he had acknowledged it; he would die rather than confess his love for her, knowing full well that she would never reciprocate it.

He was nothing but her fellow Head Boy, a boy she only chose to befriend out of pity.

* * *

The two weeks passed by in a blur; Draco spent most of his time holed up in the common room, reading and distracting himself from penning a letter to Hermione.

He caught a nasty head cold after staying too long outside, and he had to recuperate at the Hospital wing two days before classes started again, which also happened to be the time the students would be returning from their Christmas break.

Draco's jaw dropped to the ground when Hermione entered the infirmary. He barely noticed the anxious expression on her face, for he was too engrossed with the outfit she wore.

She was wearing the clothes he bought her—a pink and white striped cashmere sweater that fit her perfectly and a matching pleated skirt with a decent length. She had chosen to wear tights and leg warmers that matched it, and her feet were encased in delicate-looking boots. Her hair was tied back neatly, although a few curls had already escaped the confines of her bun. And if he wasn't mistaken, she was wearing lip gloss.

He sat up, and gave a low curse. He didn't want her like that; somehow, the new polished look he saw did not sit well with his conscience. He realized that he preferred the old Hermione, the one who wore shapeless clothing and ratty jeans, the one who walked around without any make-up on.

"What the hell happened to you?" he couldn't stop the rude words tumbling out of his mouth. "You look… female,"

Hermione ignored his jab, her hand shooting out to touch his hot forehead. "You're sick!" she said, worry creasing her temples. "What happened? Since when have you been here? Are you feeling better?"

Draco tried to ignore the pleasure he felt as her hand lingered on his face. "So many questions, Granger," he sneered. "I'm fine, just got a bit of a cold. How did you know I was here anyway?"

Hermione sat down on the bed beside him, still looking anxious. "I asked Zabini," she answered. "You didn't wear the scarf I gave you, didn't you? That's why you froze your arse off outside and made yourself ill!"

Draco shrugged, biting back his tongue to stop himself from admitting to her that he practically slept with the scarf she made for him the last fourteen days she was gone. "I see you've finally decided to wear the clothes I bought you," he drawled out, looking pointedly at her outfit. Hermione flushed, but she met his gaze defiantly.

"I just wanted to prove that I'm not afraid of embracing my feminine side," she mumbled, tugging agitatedly at her skirt. "If you find it repulsive, I'd be more than happy to change," she made a move to stand up, but Draco grasped her wrist firmly. She gazed up at him with a combination of incense and bewilderment.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, and she blinked, staring unbelievingly at him.

"R—really?" she stammered, heat climbing her cheeks.

"Really," Draco echoed, releasing his grip on her. "But I just realized that I like you better when you look normal—dressing up like you have no care in the world, and not even bothering to put a little make-up,"

Hermione gave him a glare. "Are you saying that you preferred me looking ugly with my 'ratty' Levis and oversized sweaters?" she questioned, looking mightily insulted. "Well for your information, _Malfoy_, even if I'm not half as good-looking as Astoria or your other female friends, I can assure you that I have a far more superior mind than all of them put together!"

Draco wanted to laugh at her reaction, but instead he pulled her to him in a warm embrace. She became rigid in his arms, but she did not pull away.

"You really do love jumping to conclusions, don't you, _Hermione_?" he heard her sharp intake of breath as he uttered her Christian name. "Listen to me, because you'll never hear this from my lips again… I think you're beautiful both ways, whether you wear those ugly pants or this flattering skirt."

He had mustered all of his courage to get those words out, and his braveness was rewarded when she snuggled closer to him, her arms going around his neck.

"You're not just toying with me, are you?" she asked, with just the barest hint of wariness. Draco slowly shook his head, and his breath hitched up when her fingers swept away a lock of white-blonde hair that fell over his left eye.

"I may be the villain you and your saintly friends hated so much, but I can be truthful too. And in this case, I'm only being completely honest,"

"Thank you, _Draco_… I missed you," came her muffled voice from the junction between his neck and shoulder, where she had buried her face into.

"Touché," he whispered, not wanting to ever let her go. He would just deal with the harsh realities later; right now he just wanted to drown in her warm hug.

* * *

A/n: So tell me what you think. Reviews make me really happy and more motivated to write. :)


	4. Her Kiss

**Seven Things**

by astrogirl23

A/n: Hello guys! I just wanted to thank you for giving me a lot of good reviews, I really appreciate it! I just want to hug each and every one of you. Thanks again! So here's another chapter, as a token of my affection for all the lovely readers. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

* * *

Draco Malfoy discovered one rainy afternoon three things that he knew would change his life forever; first, that miracles do happen. Second, that patrolling during the early afternoon had more disadvantages than advantages. And thirdly, that Hermione Granger hated getting soaked under a thunderstorm.

The third he could personally vouch for, since he still possessed the bruises she had made on his arms, although the red hand mark her palm had made on his cheek had already disappeared.

It all started when he received the letter from his mother that Wednesday evening before their evening rounds. The day before he had the guts to do the most outrageous thing when he discovered another bloody fact to hate about her.

**Her kiss.**

* * *

Draco's grey eyes snapped open when he heard a tapping sound from his bedroom window. Blinking the bleariness from his eyes, he realized that he had fallen asleep again while reading the last chapters of his Defence Against the Dark Arts book. He really should avoid studying on his bed if he actually wanted to finish studying, he thought.

Setting the book aside, he stretched and hopped down his four-poster bed, peering over the window to check where the tapping sound came from. He then saw the familiar silhouette of their family owl, a grey tawny that frequently delivered missives from either Draco's mother or father.

Draco swallowed convulsively, a feeling of nervousness spreading in his stomach. It was the first time he would be receiving a letter from his parents ever since he went back to Hogwarts. He opened the window and let the owl in, giving it a quivery pat on the head as it held out its leg where the letter was tied to.

Taking a deep breath, he ripped open the envelope and unfolded the parchment.

_Dearest Draco__,_

_I have missed you so much these past months, my darling son. I am very sorry that we haven't been able to write to you since you arrived there, for reasons I am sure you already know of. Your father and I have been under house arrest, and our every move had been monitored by the Ministry. That included being robbed of the right to mail letters, even to our own son. Unless we have proven that we no longer want a part in the never-ending war, we would still be under surveillance. It was a wonderful thing that as of last night, the house arrest proclaimed on us by the Ministry has been lifted, and now we are finally free to contact you._

_It greatly saddened me that the school did not allow you to come home for Christmas break, but I do hope that you have received the gifts your father and I sent you__, late as they were sent ( I could just imagine the security checks it went through before getting there). I am very anxious to hear about how you are faring there, Draco. Have they been treating you well? I have heard that McGonagall had appointed you as Head Boy, which gave me and your father a shock; we then came to a conclusion that it is a form of test for you, to see if you had improved or will have room for improvement since the Final Battle ended. I know you would never disappoint us, darling. I'm sure you are doing exceptionally well there. _

_Another thing I just wanted to inquire about, is it also true that Potter's friend Hermione Granger is your fellow Head Girl? If so, are you two getting along? I do hope you would treat her civilly, Draco. Your father and I had signed a contract with the Ministry and McGonagall about our family's complete abolishment of our philosophy about the purity of blood. I know you've complained a thousand times before that you can't stand her; if you still feel that way, please set it aside until you graduate. It wouldn't do us any good if you offended one of the heroes of the war, darling. _

_Please write to me soon, Draco. Your father and I are most anxious to hear from you. _

_Your loving mother,_

_Narcissa_

Draco's heart constricted with emotion as he gazed down at his mother's flowery script. He missed his parents so much. Feeling a sting of tears behind his eyes, he blinked furiously, not wanting to bawl his eyes out before his evening patrol with the Head Girl.

He read the letter one last time, savouring the words, before lovingly folding it and tucking it within the safety of his robe pocket.

"You're smiling," Hermione observed as he went down to meet her at their common room. "It's either because you finally finished studying for Defence Against the Dark Arts or you're happy to see me. I'm guessing it's the former rather than the latter, because you see me everyday but don't give out a smile as bright as that each time you see me,"

Draco grinned at her but did not reply. Somehow, he still could not bring himself to open up the topic regarding his family to her. Though he had already grudgingly accepted the fact that he loved her to distraction, there was still a part of himself that he withheld from her—his heart was enough to sacrifice, but his brain was another idea. No, he would never surrender wholeheartedly to Hermione, no matter how strong his emotions revolved around her.

"What is it?" she pressed, tugging at his robe sleeve as they slipped out the doorway of their common room. "Tell me, please?"

But Draco only shook his head, plodding ahead of her. "Is it Astoria?" she asked ten minutes later, her tone casual but cautious.

"Would it matter to you if it was her?" he could not resist replying in a voice that dripped with cynicism. He felt her halt on her tracks behind him, and heard her sharp intake of breath as well.

"Are you implying that I might be… jealous?" she inquired icily, and he half-turned to face her.

"Are you?" he challenged, and she turned scarlet.

"No," she snapped, pushing a classroom door open to check for any loitering student milling about. "Why should I be?" she flicked an annoyed glance at Draco, and he shrugged.

"Beats me. So quit your incessant questioning, before I get other ludicrous ideas," he drawled out, giving her a smirk to cover up the slight heaviness her words sent to his chest.

"I was just curious," Hermione mumbled. A rather uncomfortable silence filled the air after that, and Draco's light mood was gone. She really need not slap the harsh reality in his face that she would never want him, but then again, he deserved it, for baiting her into irritation.

"So… um, is it Pansy?" she asked timidly five minutes later, obviously unable to help her nosy self.

"No," he snarled, starting to get pissed off. Did she really think his happiness merely depended on girls? She made him feel like a shallow-minded, girl-obsessed git. "Can't you just mind your own business for one freaking second, Granger? You are seriously getting on my nerves."

She looked as though he had slapped her on the face; the colour drained from her cheeks, and she blinked at him, too slow to hide the hurt in her eyes.

"Right. Sorry," she whispered, turning away. Then her spine straightened, and she marched on ahead of him, completely ignoring his presence for the rest of their patrolling shift. Draco resisted the urge to grovel and beg for her forgiveness, for acting like a complete arse.

"Where are you going?" he asked when she turned her heel to the opposite direction from their common room.

"I hardly think it's any of your business," she answered curtly, not bothering to face him. She had barely taken three steps away when he grabbed her hand and forced her to turn to him.

"It is, if it involves the safety of my fellow Head Girl," he said in a hard voice. His heart clenched when he saw her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She was spitting mad, alright. He could only wince at the burning fury in her brown eyes.

"Oh, so now you're allowed to meddle with my life, and I'm not allowed to do the same?" she asked furiously.

"Your safety is a different matter altogether from my privacy," Draco responded icily. "And I am hardly obligated to inform you of everything that's happening to me just because we became 'friends'," he could not help the bitter sneer that flitted his face. "And if you don't want to tell me where you're headed off, fine. Just try to keep out of trouble and stay alive until the morning so I won't get expelled by McGonagall for not caring enough about the well-being of the saintly Head Girl,"

Hermione's bottom lip trembled at his mean words, but she seemed determined not to cry in front of him. "I'm going to the Gryffindor common room, you unfeeling jerk! At least my friends there don't take it the bad way if I'm curious about their welfares!" with that she yanked her hand away from his suddenly slack grip, and stormed away to the opposite direction, her bushy hair flying behind her.

With a low curse, Draco stepped forward to follow her, then realized that nothing he could say right now would alleviate her anger. He just acted like a complete arse, so he could hardly blame her for stalking off. He might as well leave her to her real friends for the meantime.

With a heavy heart he trudged back to the Heads' common room, feeling quite lonely and frustrated. He would apologize tomorrow, he silently vowed. And probably share a bit of information about the good news his family just received, even if it made him very uncomfortable. Damn her, for demanding so much he wasn't ready to give.

He felt disgusted with himself for allowing her to take over him, making him weak with submission to whatever bloody thing she desired from him.

Worse thing is, she had no bloody idea.

* * *

Draco did not see Hermione the whole morning the following day, and he wondered vaguely if she was purposely avoiding him. When he finally caught a glimpse of her in the Great Hall with Ginny Weasley, she had her face averted to the direction away from him, very careful not to meet his gaze.

The final straw came for Draco when he found out she wanted to switch patrolling partners for the rest of the term from Blaise, who was not too enthusiastic at the possibility of being suddenly paired up with her.

"I'll speak to McGonagall," Draco muttered, and Blaise nodded in approval.

"You better, mate. I don't want to be stuck with her for the rest of the term," Blaise eyed Draco with a bit of disbelief. "I know for a fact that you're already immune to her, unlike the rest of us,"

And so Draco went to the Headmistress' office, highly incensed.

"This is preposterous, Professor!" he ground out, his fists tightening into angry curls as he faced the Headmistress in her office. "Surely you wouldn't allow it, the Head Girl is supposed to be paired up with me!"

Minerva McGonagall gave him a perplexed stare. "I thought you did not exactly want Miss Granger as your Head Girl, Mr. Malfoy," she said slowly, setting down her quill to give him her full attention. "She just mentioned that fact to me this morning. She mentioned maybe you'd enjoy having Mr. Zabini or perhaps a lower year prefect, like Miss Greengrass, as a companion for the evening rounds,"

Draco wanted to wring Hermione's neck for backing him down to such situation. He'd look like a complete idiot admitting that he preferred her company than any of the people McGonagall just mentioned. But if that was what the chit wanted, so be it. Damn her.

"I never said I didn't want her as my partner," he said in a low voice, and McGonagall's brows hitched up. "But if this is the arrangement she prefers, so be it." He said those words with a sense of finality, and the Headmistress eyed him with a trace of pity.

"Did you two have an argument?" she asked in a gentle tone that shocked Draco. Never had he dreamed that the wise old witch would speak to him in a tone other than sternness. "I had assumed that you and Miss Granger already got along, but it seems that something unpleasant happened between the two of you,"

Draco could only shake his head, unable to form a reply. He couldn't risk talking to McGonagall about such things; he knew she would be smart enough to figure out he had feelings for Hermione, and that would only make the situation worse.

"I'd like to be paired up with Astoria, if that's alright," he said gruffly after a moment of silence, and McGonagall looked sorely disappointed.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. If that's what you think is wise."

* * *

One reason why Draco preferred the late night rounds was because he did not have to keep an eye on the young ones from years one to three, who posed as unmanageable kids pumped up with too much energy and complaints than he cared to deal with. He felt like a baby sitter watching and scolding them, dropping them off to their correct common rooms when they got lost, and other petty things he preferred not doing.

The new arrangement McGonagall gave him though, included an afternoon shift, where the youngsters were either struggling to find their way back to their common rooms or were wreaking havoc in the hallways with Peeves. To his surprise, Astoria was terribly patient with the kids, restoring peace while Draco sulked at his misfortune.

"I assume you aren't too fond of children," Astoria commented as they strolled down the hall leading to the school grounds. He had been relieved when she did not press him for details when he showed up instead of Blaise. It was another thing he could compare her to Hermione against, her respect of his privacy. Well, Hermione did too, but she was pried on his private business more than he would allow a person to do.

"Yeah, I guess," he answered, looking bored. He watched idly the first-years running around the quidditch pitch, some who were practicing for their flying lessons. Astoria calmly asked a first-year Hufflepuff boy to stop throwing spit balls at the glowering Gryffindor sitting on the grass with a couple of female friends, mentioning that she might possibly dock points if he kept on doing it.

What caught Draco's attention however, was a Slytherin girl, sobbing her heart out as she sat on the bleachers, her small shoulders quivering. He left Astoria with the Hufflepuff boy and strode over to the little girl, who looked at him with watery green eyes, her nose red from crying.

"What happened?" he asked, trying to sound gentle and approachable. The little girl's eyes widened when she recognized Draco's face.

"I… I lost my cat," she finally managed to say between her teary hiccups. "I was just—I was just playing with her when I blinked and she—when she disappeared!" the little girl burst into hapless tears again, and Draco gave her an awkward pat on the head.

"Don't worry, I'll find your cat," he said determinedly, and she gazed at him with trust in her big green eyes.

"Really?" she squeaked out, calming down a little.

"Really," Draco answered. "Now tell me, how does this cat of yours look like?"

The little Slytherin girl was more than happy to describe her pet. "Bubbles is a white Siamese cat, with a black tail and paws! She also has a pink ribbon tied to her neck, with a small gold bell!"

Draco nodded, mentally taking note of the information the kid gave him. As he was making his way back to Astoria to inform her of his mission, heavy rain suddenly started pouring down from the sky, and everyone lounging on the grounds bolted up and ran for cover.

"I need to look for this little girl's cat," Draco told Astoria when they reached the roofed area of the quidditch pitch. He steered the little girl to make her stand beside the blonde prefect. "Just stay here, alright? I'll be back," without waiting for Astoria's response, he went out under the steady heavy pour of rain, towards the direction the Slytherin kid pointed where her cat disappeared to.

Draco was openly cursing as he shuddered uncontrollably against the cold, heavy rain. This would be the first and last bloody time he would be doing a damned heroic act. He heard a sharp, barely audible mewl of a cat near the lake, and he jogged onwards, ignoring the cold pelting rain soaking him from head to foot. This was the last time he would be patrolling in this bloody shift. After finding that damned cat he would be marching up McGonagall's office to switch him back with Hermione.

He let out a sigh of relief when he spotted the drenched cat cowering between the tall blades of the grass, shivering. Gingerly he picked up the poor animal, tucking it under the safety of his robes.

He nearly screamed like a girl when he spun around and saw Hermione standing in front of him, her hands on her hips, her sodden hair sticking to the sides of her face.

"You scared the hell out of me!" he yelled out through the loud pattering of the rain around them. Above them lightning struck, and they both flinched at the deafening rumble of thunder ahead. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Her voice shook from the freezing rain when she answered. "A—Astoria told m—me that you were out h—here, trying to act the hero and s—saving a c—cat in the middle of a s—storm,"

He was quick to notice that she was shivering madly, either from the rain or from the thunder. Concern winning over his pride, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him as he attempted to share what little warmth he could give her. She fought him off for a second, but gave up and snuggled to his chest.

"So I was," he tried to sound casual, but his voice came out shaky as well. "I've been trying to impress my fellow patrol-mate so she won't sack me like you did," he added in a tone full of irony and hurt.

"Well I'd say it's a foolish thing to do!" she glared, pulling away from him. "You could get struck by lightning if you stay out here too long!"

"So what? It's not as if you care about me. If I recall correctly, you were the one who kicked me out as your partner for the patrols like a heartless witch," he said sardonically, and she squinted up at him, absorbing the look in his eyes, which he knew contained bitterness and hurt.

"And you didn't even fight for it!" she said angrily, her voice rising. "Don't you dare pretend that I didn't do you a favour—I know how much you'd prefer Astoria as your partner! You would never go to these lengths just to impress me, like you would to her!"

Draco rolled his eyes, praying for fortitude. "Yeah, there's nothing more I'd enjoy than patrolling a bunch of brats who really try my patience! And please, quit acting like a jealous girlfriend over Astoria, because you don't even like me in the first place!" he shot back, getting just as livid as she was.

"I am not acting like a jealous girlfriend!" she snapped. "Stop deluding yourself, Malfoy,"

Draco shook his head disbelievingly at her. "Only if you stop denying yourself the truth, _Hermione_," his murmur was lost in the heavy fall of the rain, but she seemed to have heard him utter her name. Confusion flickered in her eyes, then it was gone.

"What truth? That I _might_ possibly have feelings for you?" she gave a fake laugh, backing away from him. Somehow, her words and expression caused his calm façade to snap, and something inside him broke. Something unleashed the hidden emotions he had so carefully bottled inside the past months, causing him to act irrationally. Draco was so furious with the mocking look in her eyes that he yanked her back to him forcefully, causing her to crash into his chest with a thump.

"You are the biggest idiot I have ever encountered in this school!" he hissed, and her eyes grew wide with astonishment. "You are the densest, nosiest, most unbearable bitch I ever had the misfortune of falling in love with! I hate you, you filthy little mudblood! You are making me so fucking miserable! I want you to get the hell away from me, and give me my fucking heart back!"

He was breathing heavily after his short speech, and he abruptly let her wrist go, a horrified look on his face. Hermione seemed frozen in utter shock at his declaration, and when she was able to move, she gave him a sound slap on the face.

"Well I feel the same way for you, you insensitive bigot! Do you think I enjoy being in love with you? It's the worst sort of punishment I could ever have! It's unbelievable! It's—" the rest of her words were cut off when he had closed the remaining distance between them, his lips touching hers, and the world behind Draco Malfoy disappeared.

The only real thing for him at the moment was Hermione; he marvelled at the softness of her lips, the quiver of her cold hands as they hesitantly cupped the sides of his face, and the feeling of rightness as her small compact body huddled against him in a sweet embrace. She admitted loving him too, and it made him feel like he had conquered the world.

It seemed as though an eternity had passed when they finally pulled away from each other, both looking confused and awed at the same time; then Hermione clutched Draco's arms painfully when another roll of thunder clapped angrily in the dark sky.

"Oh my God." Hermione said, looking flabbergasted. "Oh my God. Oh my God," she looked as though she would hyperventilate from shock. she swallowed, blinked three times, and repeated her senseless litany. Her tirade halted when lightning struck again, followed by the angry bellow of the thunder. Hermione squeezed his upper arms again in fright, and she buried her face on his chest.

"Let's go back," he murmured into her hair, trying to absorb the trembling from her body, his fingers running soothingly over her arched spine.

"I hate thunderstorms," she whispered embarrassedly, letting him lead her back to the shelter of the castle.

"Then why did you follow me outside?" he asked, and she gave him a cross look. Right. She loved him. He gave a laugh then, pulling her closer to him, if that was possible.

Draco pulled out the shivering cat from his robes when they reached the castle, where the little Slytherin girl anxiously waited, Astoria standing calmly at her side.

"Bubbles!" the girl squealed happily, taking the cat from Draco. "Thank you very much!" she grinned toothily at him, then disappeared into the hall with her friends.

"It's a good thing you found her cat, Draco," Astoria said with a serene smile on her beautiful face. "Ashley has been very worried, Bubbles was a gift to her by her parents before she set off for Hogwarts,"

Draco nodded with a polite smile, wringing out the sleeves of his soaked robes. "It was also a good thing you stayed with her while I searched for her cat. Thanks, Astoria," he responded, and gave a slight start when Hermione cleared her throat.

"I think we better go up and change," she grumbled, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Yes, I agree with her," Astoria said, reaching over to tuck back a wet lock of hair from Draco's face. "Go on, Draco. I'll see you around, I suppose,"

Draco watched with amusement as Hermione stomped up to their common room, leaving a wet trail behind her. He couldn't seem to let the fact that she was actually displaying a hint of jealousy sink into the peripheries of his mind. He had to admit, it made him feel triumphant.

She had run off to her room before he could catch up and talk to her some more. With a sigh, he went to his own room and took a warm shower, regaling the previous events in his head. Had he heard her correctly? Did she really love him back? The notion seemed so ridiculous he had to shake his head. It would take a miracle to make someone like Hermione love him. They shared too many differences, and just that mere fact of loving each other posed as a possible threat to their reputations and lives.

He also wondered how they would act around each other now that their feelings were out in the open. Would they continue to fight? Would he still live to see the daylight once Weasley and Potter found out? What would his parents do? And the biggest question was, would they make it official?

Draco was filled with anxiousness as he went down their common room after his shower. Hermione was nowhere to be found, but it seemed that she had left a note.

_Draco,_

_I still have to finish some essays at the library, and I need to find an extra source for the research paper I'm doing for Professor Vector. I won't be back until late in the evening. _

_-Hermione_

Draco did not need a clearer sign that she was purposely trying to evading him. He completely understood her action, for he himself was not yet ready to deal with the sudden turn of events. He had a nagging feeling that he would just be mucking things up the first chance he gets. Or she will.

He then distracted himself by replying to his mother's missive, informing her that he was in good terms with the Head Girl, but not elaborating any further. He didn't think his mother would be too happy to discover that he had fallen in love, with a muggle-born no less.

After that he busied himself with books and more paperwork, willing the slithering in his stomach to go away. He had been rechecking his Charms essay when he heard the common room door open. Hermione returned earlier than he had expected, and she flushed to the roots of her hair when their eyes met. She clutched the books she held closer to her chest, looking hesitant to speak to him. But after a split second, she did, her eyes choosing to settle on the letter he was holding instead.

"You know I'm absolutely dying to ask what that is, but since you don't want me snooping too much on your privacy, I won't," she announced seriously, and a smile tugged on one corner of Draco's mouth.

"It's a letter I wrote to my mother," he responded, and she looked astonished that he dared to answer her. "That was the reason I was smiling so widely last night—because I was finally able to receive a letter from my family,"

It hurt his throat to explain, but also a bit relieving to let out his side of the story. He could not read the expression in Hermione's eyes, but she had set down her books and had sat down beside him, sliding her fingers into his cold hand.

"I'm happy for you," she said with utmost sincerity. "I read it at the Daily Prophet this morning, that the house arrest has been lifted. I suppose that was the reason why they weren't able to write to you,"

"Yeah," he responded, tightening his grip on her fingers. For a moment they just sat there in comfortable silence, their fingers intertwined. Finally, he brought himself to ask the things he had been dreading to talk about.

"What do you suppose is going to happen to us now?" her fingers loosened at his words, and a morose look crossed her features.

"I honestly don't know," she whispered, a sad note in her voice. "I'm really sorry, Draco, but it's something I don't really fancy talking about. I'm still in the process of digesting it, I reckon,"

Draco gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. "I feel exactly the same way. I never intended to let you find out. I… I never thought it would work out," Stomach churning with inexplicable emotions, he leaned over and gently wiped away a stray teardrop that had formed on Hermione's eye.

"This sucks," she mumbled, blinking. "I wish… I wish I could go back to hating you," she said, sending a knifing sensation to Draco's heart. He secretly wished for that as well… or maybe not.

"You want a memory charm to go with that?" he asked dryly, and she smiled a little.

"No… but really, Draco, this is a messy situation we're in right now," she said, resting her head against his shoulder. "I think we should just pretend not to know how we feel about each other,"

"I'm game with that… if we start tomorrow, that is, and not tonight," he said huskily, pressing his lips lightly against her forehead. She gave a sigh and encircled her arms around his waist.

Hermione's eyes glittered with unshed tears, her lids drifting close as their lips met in another bone-melting kiss.

"Yes. Not tonight."

* * *

A/n: I hope these two didn't get too OOC or anything. They are pretty hard to capture, especially in such romantic scenes. So darlings, tell me what you think! I'd love to hear from you! A one-word review would be enough to make me smile. :)


	5. She Makes Him Laugh, She Makes Him Cry

**Seven Things**

By astrogirl23

A/n: Did I make you guys wait too long? Sorry. :( I admit, I was a bit busy with my personal tumblr that I kind of forgot to update. But here I am, and I hope you like it. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

* * *

Draco Malfoy never really believed that his so-called romance with Hermione Granger would be as smooth-sailing as a boat ride in a calm ocean. No, it was most certainly not like the insipid love stories his mother had so loved to secretly read with her afternoon tea, one that consists of a perfect hero and heroine that tackle love like an easy subject. Nor was it the typical teenage romance people usually see; the love the two of them shared was so volatile it could not be defined merely as a 'relationship'. It was something else, so much more, something the two of them cannot really explain.

It was in one word, dangerous.

Whatever intimate moments that occurred between them never went outside the privacy of their common room; it had been their mutual agreement to keep everything a secret, for if someone found out, they would be in great trouble, both from their closest friends and loved ones. The situation had been more difficult than either of them can imagine.

Both had tried to keep their bond strong despite the trials that came their way, but sometimes, one tends to get sick and tired of the endless cycles of their relationship, causing a drift that was pretty much hard to mend.

Draco still couldn't fathom why he felt such a powerful pull of emotions towards her. She caused quite a rollercoaster of feelings he could not completely understand, for one moment she made him happy, and the next second all his positive emotions would come crashing down around him with just a simple non-committal word from her .

She made him feel crazy. She made him want to laugh and cry at the same time, and those specifics made him question whether she was really at all good for his health or not.

He did not fancy becoming a candidate for St. Mungo's mental ward just yet.

* * *

_"Marry me?"_

Hermione fell off the couch with a rather heavy thud at Draco's sudden statement. Her face had become drained of the healthy flush it contained, and her cinnamon-coloured eyes went as wide as saucers.

"W—what?" she squeaked, clutching her chest as she breathed heavily, staring at his relaxed form in pure horror.

"Marry me," he repeated in a deadly serious voice. Hermione looked as though she would faint on the spot; her lips had turned white, and she was visibly trembling. Her terrified visage somehow pricked Draco's pride, even though he knew very well he wasn't serious with his impulsive outburst.

Draco gave a soft chuckle and gave her a hand up from her frozen position on the floor. "Just practicing," he drawled out, squeezing her trembling hand as she rose with his assistance. He gave a shout of pain when Hermione reached over and pinched him hard on the thigh, bellowing a string of curses that echoed around the common room.

"It's not funny, you arse!" she said hotly, her face a brilliant shade of magenta. "You're despicable, you arrogant ferret!"

Draco had grabbed both her wrists before she could pinch him again, a smirk on his lips. He ignored the stinging pain on his thigh, believing that a purple bruise already beginning to form on the area she sank her claws into. Sometimes Hermione can _really get so physical_.

"I'm sorry, love. I couldn't resist," he grinned mischievously at her. "I just wanted to try saying that line, and who do you think is the best person I could practice on?"

Hermione did not look one bit amused with him, although he felt the resistance slipping away from her wrists. Carefully he tugged her closer, inhaling the sweet strawberry smell of her hair. "Besides, I'm the one who should be wound up, for the insulting way you reacted to my declaration. You looked as though I just asked you to roast fluffy little bunnies alive rather than give a proposal of marriage," he murmured against her temple, gently pressing his lips against it.

"It was hardly a joking matter, Draco," she mumbled, albeit wrapping her slim arms against his neck. "We can barely tell the world of our relationship, much more try to marry each other. And besides, we're too young,"

"I know," he whispered. "Sorry," he ran an idle finger against her smooth cheek, and she gave a contented sigh. Vaguely he thought about the weight of his teasing earlier—would he come to a point in the future where he would be asking Hermione to become his wife? The notion sent a chill down his spine, for a different reason altogether. He knew his parents would never approve of a relationship with her, much more the possibility of tainting their pure bloodline with non-magical blood with the result of marriage. Not that Draco still considered her as a mudblood—who could deny the magical blood running through her veins when all she displayed was exceptional talent?

He gave his head a mental shake to wave off those unpleasant thoughts. It wasn't as if he'd be marrying anytime soon; they had all the time in the world to enjoy each other, and if ever the day would come when he needed to make a decision, he'd… crap, he had no inkling about what to do.

"Where'd you get that idea anyway?" Hermione's soft voice jolted him out of his reverie. "About the marriage thing, I mean,"

"Just a random thing that popped in my head, I reckon," he said truthfully. "I heard a song over the radio about it, and it's sort of stuck in my head ever since," Hermione pulled away from him to look into his eyes; it was one of her quirks, being able to detect whether he was lying or not merely by gazing into his eyes. He was no mediocre when it came to legilimency and occlumency, but it seemed that he had met his match in Hermione. She could read him easily, much more accurately than the other people Draco had been acquainted with. She smiled in satisfaction when she saw that he was telling the truth.

"Oh. Alright," she looked a bit disappointed at his response. "Been listening all day to the radio instead of studying for the N.E.W.T. exams, have you, Draco? We both know that it wouldn't do us any good to—" She glanced down at her watch, gave a low cuss, and disengaged herself from Draco's embrace. "Merlin's beard! I almost forgot, Harry's asked me to meet him at the Three Broomsticks! I'm almost a quarter hour late!" hurriedly she slipped on her shoes and fluffed her hair back to propriety. Draco didn't bother informing her that she only made it look bushier than ever, just leaned back on the couch and eyed her lazily instead.

"What does Potter want?" he asked, working hard to keep his tone neutral. "Does he need help on his homework? Oh wait, that would be Weasley," he sneered, and Hermione shot him an irritated look.

"I don't know what Harry needs," she said icily. "And please, don't talk that way about Ron, he's been through a lot since the war—he just lost a brother, you know,"

Draco immediately felt contrite for his jealous eruption. Much as he still disliked them, they were Hermione's friends. And he needed to act more grateful because they were the ones who reluctantly saved his neck back at the Room of Requirement almost a year ago. "Again, my apologies," he said, actually meaning it. "What time will you be back?" he asked a heartbeat later, reaching out to take her hand but she moved away, still looking offended at his insult.

"I don't know," she answered. "I have to go, I'll see you later at the evening rounds," she then turned to leave, but he wouldn't let her go with an angry drift between them.

"I love you," he called out after her, his voice husky with genuine emotion. She halted mid-stride, looking stricken. She looked for a moment as though she was considering whether his statement was genuine, then after a heartbeat, rushed back to him, her fingers weaving into his white-blond hair as she gave him a rather impulsive kiss. Draco's blood pulsed hotly against his veins, and he was breathing heavily when she pulled away.

"Be a good boy," she whispered, giving his hot cheek a pat before exiting the common room.

Draco could only stare after her, his heart drumming furiously against his chest.

* * *

True to her word, Hermione did not return to the Heads' common room until their evening rounds. When she did, Draco was alarmed to see a lost expression on her face, eyes obviously swollen from too much crying.

"What happened?" he asked, hurrying towards her, but she held her hands up as if to ward him away. She shook her head, and burst into tears again. Draco edged nearer, careful not to make her more anxious. "Tell me what's wrong, love. I'm here," he said gently, opening his arms to her, but she did not move towards him.

"I—it's Ron—he—he won't—he won't listen to me or Harry," she said between hiccups, wiping at the tears with the back of her hand. "He—he says he wants to leave—leave school,"

"Why?" Draco queried, suddenly curious.

Hermione gazed at him with hurt-filled eyes, her bottom lip quivering as she spoke. "He… he says he'd rather help George out at the joke shop," she replied, looking vastly frustrated. "He won't listen to anything I say… he—he told me and Harry to mind our own business and l—leave him alone," she finished, and buried her face into her palms, her narrow shoulders quaking with each sob.

Draco waited for a minute before taking another tentative step toward her. She seemed to sense that though, for she took another step back.

"I—I just came to get some of my things," she said when she was able to speak coherently. "I'll be sleeping at the Gryffindor common room tonight, after our rounds. Harry and I will try to talk Ron out of leaving,"

Draco didn't know why, but he was starting to get agitated. "Fine. I'll spend the night at the Slytherin common room as well. Astoria can keep me entertained for the rest of the night, I think."

Hermione's eyes flashed with anger, and he saw her hands curl into tight fists. "Surely you can't be playing such petty jealous games with me!" she said in utter disbelief. "Ron's my friend, and he needs me!"

Draco knew that, but it didn't stop the sizzling waves of jealousy from seeping through the core of his bones. He was incensed that she would be spending the night with her ex-boyfriend, and he would do anything to get even.

"Yeah, well Astoria's my friend too," he sneered, trying to ignore the guilt in his gut when tears sprang into her eyes once more. "So let's just get this bloody patrolling shift over with, so we can carry on to our personal business,"

Hermione did not follow him as he strolled over to the doorway of the common room. He forced an indifferent expression on his face as he turned to face her. "Come on, don't make this difficult," he said lightly, and she sent him a glare so livid he gave a little flinch.

"You're the one making this difficult, you idiot!" she yelled, her temper flaring out of control. "I can't believe you'd act so childish over this! Can't you understand? My friends need me too!"

Draco averted his eyes from her before she could see the turbulence in his own gaze. "What I don't understand, is why you need to camp out there like some guard just to watch over Weasley," he said, his voice coming out even and calm. "How can I be sure you wouldn't just spend the night fooling around with him? How can I—" he was unable to finish his sentence, for the next second she had aimed a hex that hit him squarely on the stomach, sending him toppling on the floor, wheezing.

"Do you really think so low of me?" she screeched, her breaths coming out in gasps as she continued to point her wand at him. "I cannot believe you. I honestly cannot believe you!" she then turned on her heel towards her room, coming back a few minutes later with a bag full of clothes. "And I will be patrolling the halls with Padma, so just go ahead and enjoy the rest of your evening with Astoria!"

Draco clutched his stomach and rose to his feet, watching Hermione as she walked away. He was simmering with rage, laden with a hint of regret for picking a fight with her. He couldn't blame himself for being jealous though; Weasley had been her friend for more than seven years, and he had contributed more happiness in her life than Draco ever did. He knew deep in his heart that if Hermione were to choose between the two of them, she would undoubtedly pick Weasley over him. Those unpleasant realizations brought an unexpected sting behind his eyes. Yes, he never stood a chance against Weasley.

With a bitter laugh to counter the threat of tears in his eyes, he swivelled to the direction of the Slytherin common room, where he would keep himself preoccupied from the thoughts of the girl he loved with his enemy.

* * *

"Astoria," Draco gave her a boyish smile when he spotted her lounging at one of the plush leather chairs with her friends, chatting gaily with one another. Her friends' heads whirled at Draco's direction, astonishment on their faces.

"Draco," she gave him a dimpled smile in return, moving over to give him space. Draco settled comfortably beside her, and gave an acknowledging nod to her friends, who were still gawking at him. "What brings you here in the common room? I thought you had rounds during this shift with the Head Girl,"

"She can manage on her own, I reckon," he drawled out, his heart constricting as he recalled Hermione, and where she currently was at the moment. Astoria eyed him with concern, her pretty blue eyes fixed intently on him.

Just then, Blaise caught sight of him, and he stalked towards Draco, looking confused. "Shouldn't you be doing your evening rounds with Granger?" he asked in puzzlement.

"She decided I needed a break so she volunteered to do it with Padma Patil instead," he lied, and Blaise's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I don't think Granger would be the type to let you off the hook so easily," he said slowly, looking at Draco with deciphering eyes.

Draco thought so too, so he couldn't think of another fabrication to say. Instead he glanced away and concentrated on what Astoria's friend was babbling about.

"I think you and I need to talk privately, mate," he said, and Draco raised a brow.

"Whatever for, Blaise? Why don't we just sit and relax here with these pretty ladies?" he quipped in a sickeningly charming voice that seemed to weave its magic to Astoria's friends. He gave an inward shudder of disgust as they practically fell at his feet with his compliment, blubbering praises about Draco that he did not care to hear about.

"I insist," Blaise told him in a hard voice, and Draco faked a resigned sigh. He turned to Astoria and gave her an apologetic smile.

"I'll be back," he said, and she gave an understanding nod. She then turned to Blaise, and gave him a smile. "Yes, don't hog Draco too long, Blaise," she said sweetly. Draco took his sweet time rising from his seat, following Blaise who was stalking off to their favourite hang-out place at the common room, a secluded corner nobody dared to broach.

"What is it, Blaise?" he asked impatiently once they sat down on their old chairs.

"Why aren't you patrolling with Granger? And don't give me that crap you mentioned a while ago, Draco," Blaise said bluntly, looking at Draco straight in the eye.

Draco bit back his tongue to prevent hauling a bunch of curses at his friend. "We got into a major argument, alright?" he finally answered in a crabby voice.

"But I thought you two got along so well," Blaise could not hide the sarcasm in his tone. "Aren't you two supposed to be madly in love with each other?"

Draco's eyes widened with surprise. "Where did you get that ridiculous idea?" he asked in incredulity. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Don't play coy with me, mate. I've known you far too long," Blaise mentioned, drumming his fingers agitatedly against the ottoman he was sitting on. "I've been watching you with her; I could only recognize the possession in your eyes every time you look at her, Draco. It has been pretty much obvious to me how you feel about her,"

Draco coloured as he listened to Blaise. Had he really been that transparent?

"Was I really that obvious?" Draco croaked out when he found the capacity to speak. "Bloody hell. I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

Blaise actually looked a bit sympathetic. "If by trouble, you mean your parents, then I must agree," he said solemnly. "But don't worry, I don't think anyone else has discovered your dirty little secret."

Draco could not muster up a smile. "I'm sorry, mate, for not telling you," he muttered, looking embarrassed.

"I don't think I would have wanted to find out," Blaise scoffed. "A word of warning though, Draco. Surely you know you're treading on dangerous waters?" he asked quietly, worry visible in his opaque eyes.

"I know," Draco replied flatly. "God knows, but I can't help myself. I think I'm bloody obsessed,"

Blaise looked horrified for a moment, and then he was shaking his head in dismay.

"Astoria would be a finer choice," he suggested, cocking his head towards Astoria, who looked ethereal under the greenish lights of the common room, her long blonde hair framing her delicate face nicely. "I believe your mother would approve of her,"

Draco's jaw hardened as he fought off the urge to defend Hermione. "I guess," he responded tonelessly. "Unfortunately, she's not the one I want,"

Draco was surprised to see a spark of resentment in Blaise's eyes. "Well then, don't use her to lick your wounds from Granger, because Astoria is much worthy than that little mudblood,"

"Don't call her that," Draco hissed, and Blaise's mouth curled into a humourless smile.

"Sorry. I forgot myself for a moment there," he said dryly, standing up. "Listen, Draco. I'm only concerned about you. And you already know what I think—stay away from Granger. She'd only cause you trouble, like what she has done now,"

"Now?" Draco echoed, confused.

"Have you forgotten about breaking any rules here in school? Fat lot it would help you, once McGonagall discovers that you aren't performing your duty as Head Boy," Blaise replied brusquely.

"But it wasn't my fault she didn't want to patrol with me tonight!" Draco said defensively, also rising from his seat.

"Yeah, but would that matter once the Head Girl reports that to the Headmistress?"

Draco didn't bother answering, for he was already making his way out of the common room towards the Headmistress's office.

"Mister Malfoy, what are you doing here?" McGonagall asked as he entered her office. "Aren't you supposed to be resting? Miss Granger informed me that you weren't feeling well, so she requested to have Miss Patil accompany her instead,"

Feeling a wave of relief and a heavy burst of guilt in his stomach, he staggered to form a reply. "I—I—just wanted to double-check," he finally blurted out.

He then left the office, and plodded back to the Heads' common room as he wracked his brains for a way to make Hermione forgive him tomorrow.

* * *

"Have you seen Granger?" Draco asked Ginny Weasley when he passed by her in the hall after breakfast. The petite redhead gave him a glower, but grudgingly gave an answer to his question.

"She's with Ron, outside," she said, contempt visible in her eyes. Draco speculated vaguely whether she knew of his relationship with Hermione as he walked out of the castle, but then again, Weaslette had never really displayed a particular liking to him before. And having Draco Malfoy as a boyfriend was hardly worth boasting about to friends, he reckoned. He then made his way out of the castle, his eyes roaming over the grounds for a familiar bushy head.

He paused when he finally caught sight of her—and his heart dropped to the ground, blood rushing into his head.

Hermione's face was inclined an inch away from Weasley's bent head, and from the distance it seemed that her hand was gently massaging his arm. Whether it was for strict friendly consolation, Draco did not give a flying fuck at the moment. He saw red, and he knew he was screwed.

He felt the last scrap of understanding snap inside him when he saw her lean closer and press a kiss on his forehead. His whole body felt numb as he pivoted back into the castle, his hands unconsciously crushing the flowers he had carefully picked for her earlier.

He did not attend his first class; instead he snuck away to a secluded tavern at the outskirts of Hogsmeade and got steadily drunk until the afternoon. He had fallen asleep on a barstool, his head resting against his forearms atop the table. The toothy barmaid had roused him to consciousness just as the sun was setting down, giving not-too-subtle implications of extra service.

"Tibby can help you forget about the lass who broke yer heart, darlin'," she cooed, rubbing her breast against his arm. Draco pulled away from her grip, a revolted look on his face. Struggling madly for balance, he walked out of the tavern, his world spinning in dizzying circles around him.

He was trying to walk with a straight stance (and utterly failing) back to the Heads' common room when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, and stared dazedly into Astoria's anxious face. "Draco? Are you alright?" she asked, and Draco blinked, trying to focus on her but he kept on seeing multiple striking faces of Astoria. He felt so dizzy he staggered backwards, and she grabbed his shoulders to keep him steady.

"Yeah," he managed to mumble, his head lolling to her shoulder as she continued to support him with her fragile form. He could smell her expensive perfume, but it did not attract him at all like Hermione's sweet strawberry scent.

"You didn't attend any classes today," she scolded. "Have you been drinking the whole day?"

Draco didn't answer her, for his stomach roiled with the threat of retching.

"Let me take you to your common room," Astoria said, moving his arms so they wrapped steadily around her. "You look dreadful. Care to tell me what happened?"

Draco shook his head vehemently, causing him to become dizzier. He fell awkwardly against her, completely losing his balance.

"What's happening here?" he heard Hermione's voice over the cloudy haze around him, and he tried to remove his arms from Astoria, but he felt too weak.

"He's… he's not feeling well, I think," Astoria answered, and Draco lifted his head from her shoulder.

"Whazzit t'you?" he slurred out, barely registering the enraged look in Hermione's face as she neared them, her eyes seeming to digest his improper position against Astoria. "Y'go…y'go back to that ginger boyfriend of yours, and mind your own bl'dy business,"

"I'll take care of him," Hermione said firmly, and Draco felt her hands gripping his biceps tightly as she took him from Astoria's grasp. He let himself fall ungracefully against her, his chest bumping her breasts indecently. He could feel her heart racing as she righted their positions. "Thanks, Astoria, for keeping an eye on him," she said with a sincerity that reached Draco's alcohol-glazed mind.

He wasn't able to see or hear Astoria's response, for Hermione was already dragging him towards their common room. With great effort she heaved him to the nearest couch, and he fell limply against the chair, his head pounding.

His eyes flung open when he felt a cold cloth against his face. He saw Hermione's caramel-coloured eyes staring down at him with a mix of exasperation and nervousness.

"I've been looking for you the whole day," she murmured, pressing the cool towel against his forehead.

"No, you're not," he rasped out. "You're too busy kissing Weasley behind my back to give a pig's fart 'bout where I was,"

"I was not kissing him!" she said angrily. "It was merely a token of affection, a friendly peck on the forehead—wait, you saw that?" she sounded stunned.

He gave a snort, ignoring the pain in his chest. "I knew I never stood a chance against him," he mumbled, closing his eyes again.

He heard Hermione take a deep breath, and the wet cloth left his face.

"You really are the most insecure man I have ever met," she replied softly, her fingers lightly splaying on his face, lifting back stray locks of hair that fell on his face. "Draco, listen to me. Ron is my friend. I love him very much. You… you're not exactly my boyfriend, but I love you too, in a different way I love Harry and Ron. Trust me on this though; I love you, and you should not compare yourself to them because what I feel about you belongs in an entirely different wavelength,"

Draco did not respond, just let her words seep into his leaden mind. Somehow the ache in his chest lessened, and he wished his hang-over would be over soon so he could also apologize properly. The least he could do at the moment was feebly bring out the wilted, crushed flowers from his robe pocket, along with the letter he wrote for her the previous evening.

He missed the confused look on her face, and the bittersweet smile that crossed her features when realization dawned upon her, for his eyes remained closed.

"Y—you meant to give me these before you saw me with Ron?" she queried, sounding frail. Draco gave a nearly imperceptible nod, and he felt her bury her face into his chest. "Oh, Draco. I honestly don't know how to deal with you…"

He heard the rustle of paper a few minutes later, and he knew she was reading the note he wrote for her.

_Hermione,_

_I'm sorry. For acting like a jealous lunatic, for saying those harsh accusations. I just love you so much it hurts. I can't bear the thought of you with Weasley, because I know for a fact that the two of you shared a much more special thing than you and I ever did, that he means a whole lot more to you than I do, and once he gets his opportunity, I won't stand a chance. Please forgive me, love. I'd kneel down and hovel if you like, but I guarantee you, it won't be a pretty sight._

_-Draco_

He opened one eye and glimpsed Hermione staring at his note with tear-varnished eyes.

"You idiot," she said, glancing over at him, her lips pursed in consternation. "What do I need to do to make you realize that you're the one I love?"

Draco took a long time to reply. "You decide," he finally said, succumbing to the dark abyss of unconsciousness that engulfed him.

* * *

He woke up the next day with a heady scent of strawberries filling his nostrils. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he observed his surroundings and realized that he had fallen asleep in the common room. And to his chagrin, Hermione was sprawled uncomfortably on the floor, her head resting a few inches from his, her hair spread like a nest around him as she slept on.

His head was still pounding as he struggled to sit up, wincing at the stiffness of his muscles. Hermione stirred beside him and stretched her knotted muscles as she awakened.

Hermione caught the wince in his expression as he clutched his aching temple. "Headache?" she asked gently, and he nodded. "Good. You deserved it," she huffed out, and he almost burst into laughter.

She then proceeded to whip up a tonic to make him feel better, and he resisted the urge to kiss her as he drank from the cup she handed him. The feeling of hang-over lifted, and his mind became clearer.

"Thanks," he said gruffly when he finished drinking the tonic. He set down the cup on the coffee table, looking into her mahogany-tinted eyes apologetically.

"I suppose you enjoyed your drunken state last night, since you got the chance to cuddle with Astoria," Hermione commented slyly.

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "I don't need alcohol to do that to her," he smirked.

"I know. You're too handsome for your own good, I don't think she'd be able to help herself," she responded with heavy sarcasm, and Draco frowned.

"Come here," Draco said, gesturing to the space beside him on the couch. Hermione approached hesitantly, then sat down, a perplexed look on her face. He took her hands and grazed his lips against her knuckles in a feather-light touch, and she gave a little shiver. "I just want to let you know that I am not interested in Astoria," he said quietly. "I love you, you little, self-doubting bookworm. You're all I could ever want…I think."

"Me too," Hermione said, pulling his head down for a kiss. "Me too."

Draco almost forgot about their previous arguments as they continued to cuddle afterwards in the aftermath of their fight. Almost.

"I'm sorry about Weasley," he said gruffly, out of the blue. Hermione's eyes snapped to his face, and she gave him a wobbly smile.

"I just need you to understand. He's my friend, my best friend… he needs me right now, Draco," she whispered, unlocking herself from his arms. "If you would burst into jealous fits every time you see me with him, I don't think it would be good to continue this… this relationship we have,"

He understood completely her point, but it did not stop his heart from clenching painfully. She would rather break up with him than sabotage her friendship with Weasley and Potter.

"Fine," he answered a few minutes later, his voice hoarse. "I'll put a reign on my temper. But only if you quit acting like the queen of prissiness every time Astoria speaks to me,"

"Astoria obviously fancies you, and it's an entirely different case from Ron," Hermione argued, her eyes mirroring the irritation her felt.

"Well can't you trust me enough that I won't go behind your back with Astoria?" he asked, willing her to see his side in a different light. "You're the one I love, and I just want to be her friend. In case you haven't noticed, nobody exactly wanted to be friends with me after my death eater stint, and she was one of the few ones who actually attempted to do so,"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, absorbing his speech. Then she gave a defeated sigh, leaning rather ungracefully against the couch.

"Alright, I get your point. I'm actually a bit glad she'd being nice to you, but honestly, it never fails to bug me too. I think it might contribute to the fact that she is just too pretty, I can't help but feel insecure. I mean, who wouldn't prefer her poise and beauty over someone like me?" she ranted on, and Draco could not help the smile splitting on his face.

"I would," he said quietly, and she seemed to stop breathing. "always prefer you over her. **You make me laugh, you make me cry**, basically you make me a bit mad, but I wouldn't swap you for her,"

Hermione hid her face from him with the shield of her bushy hair, but he could tell she was appeased with his answer. When she finally turned back to him, she was looking much more peaceful than he'd seen her before.

"Thank you then. For appreciating me the way I am."

And she was appreciated. No matter how strung-up she made him ever since they realized they loved each other.

* * *

A/n: OMG it's too long, it's too long… Reviews please?


End file.
